
Book^i-i— — 



THE „ * • f+ 

SECOND JOURNA] 

07 THE 

STATED PREACHED 

TO THE 

HOSPITAL AND ALMSHC 



IN THE CITY OF NEW- YORK 



For a part of the year of our 
1813. 

WITB JIN APPENDIX, 



"wvwvvwwwwv 



" Benevolence, from its nature, composes th 
the heart, enlivens the whole frame, and 1 
feature of the countenance." 



PHILADELPHIA, 

PUBLISHED BY M. OAREY 

G. Palmer, printer. I 

1815, 



• # 






f* 






- 



DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA, to wit : 

r>-^ Be it Remembered, That on the twentieth day of 
C ") October, in the fortieth vearofthe independence of 

^ L ' S *3 the United States of America, A. D. 1815, the 

wo Rev. EZRA STILES ELY, of the said district, 
hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right 
whereof he claims as author, in the words following, to wit: 

The Second Journal of the Stated Preacher to the Hospital 
and Almshouse in the city of New-York, for a part of the year 
of our Lord 1813. With an Appendix. 

}n conformity to the act of the congress of the United 
States, entitled, «' An act for the encouragement of learning, by 
securing th<- copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors 
and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein men- 
tioned," a!.d also to the act entitled, " An act supplementary 
to an act entitled, « An act for the encouragement of learning, 
by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the au- 
thors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein 
mentioned, 5 ! and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of 
designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 

D. CALDWELL, 
Clerk of the District of Pennsylvania, 




• 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



THE former Journal of the Rev. E. S. Ely, 
was published in New- York ; and repub- 
lished in London, in 1813 ; under the new tide 
of " Visits of Mercy" To the London Edi- 
tion, the Rev. Alexander Waugh, A* M, 
Minister of the Scots' Church, and the Rev. 
George Collison, Minister of the Independent 
Church, Walthamstow , prefixed the following 
Recommendation: 

" A man is doing honour to his own heart in reeom- 
u mending to the public notice the following ' Jour- 
u nal, very appropriately entitled ' Visits of Mercy* 
li The excellent author seems to have drunk deep at 
u the spirit of Him, whose bosom was the dwelling- 
-place ©f pity, and who went about doing good. 
M What a blessing to the work-houses, the hospitals, 
41 and other receptacles of poverty and disease, espe- 
" cially in great cities, were men of his ability, dis- 
u cernment, and tenderness of heart, the persons ap» 
" pointed to perform in them the duties of the -Chris- 
" tian ministry 1 

M In every page of the work we recognize ' the 
" man of feeling ; s but it is the feeling of the renew- 
u ed heart, enlarged as is the range of human wretch- 
" edness, purified by the indwelling Spirit of God, 
" and ennobled by the model on which it is formed. 
A * 



IV ADVERTISEMENT. 

tf We assure ourselves of the thanks of every hu- 
&i mane and pious mind, in respectfully introducing a 
M work so happily fitted to soften, to cleanse, and to 
u exalt the heart of man, and give energy to. the best 
u affections of our nature/* 

The late Dr. Benjamin Rush, in a let- 
ter to Dr. David Hosack, dated, Phila- 
delphia^ January 2Ltf, 1813, thus writes of 
the same work : 

" When you see your friend Mr. Ei,t, please to 
H tell him I have read his Journal with pleasure 
"• and instruction ; and that I shall avail myself of 
** some of his. facts, should a second edition be called 
" for, of my late publicatic > upon The Diseases of 
<< the Mind,? 

" This work," [< The Visits of •Mercy,''] " was- 
u lately published in New-York, under the patronage 
" of Dr. Romeyn, with a recommendatory preface by 
" Dr. Philip Milledoler. In this country it comes. 
4< recommended by two of our respected editors, the 
l * Rev. Messrs. Waugh and Collison, whose warm 
'•* encomiums require no addition, except it be that 
" of -Mr. Osgood^ an American minister, now in Lon- 
"- don, who had a personal acquaintance with the au- 
." thor, and witnessed' his benevolent exertions, which" 
" he particularly recommends to the imitation of those 
"who visit 'the sick and the poor' among our- 
" selves/ 3 -' lipndon Jsvangciical Magazine, July, 

18i3; 

" The Visits of Mercy are well worthy the perusal 
« offal 1 who are, capable of feeling for the natural a&f& 



ADVERTISEMENT. V 

"'moral miseries of their fellow-creatures; of ap- 
" predating the value of an active, devoted, and ju- 
" dicious ministry ; or of panting after a share of its 
" inimortal honours." Idem September^ 1513. 

" WE have read, with peculiar gratification, Ely's 
First Journal, which breathes a spirit of ardent piety, 
and zeal for, the salvation of sinners ; and exhibits a 
picture, warm from life, of the consolatory influence 
of the religion of Jesus.. Ely/s Second Journal, which 
is now offered to the public, as a continuation of the 
First, we are persuaded will have the same excellent 
tendency. Both of these little volumes we most cor- 
dially recommend to the serious perusal of all Chris- 
tian people, and wish them amost extensive circula- 
tion, as calculated to promote the best interests of the 
Church." 

Philadelphia^ Oct. 28, 1815. 

SAMUEL B. WYLIE, A, M„ Pastor of 
the Reformed. Presbyterian Church 
in Philadelphia. 
JAMES R. WILSON, A. M., Profes- 
sor of the Learned Languages. 
JACOB BPvODHEAD, D. D., Pastor of 

the Reformed Dutch Church. 
HENRY HOLCOMBE, D.D., Pastor of 

the First Baptist Church. 
GEORGE BOURNE, Harrisonburg, 

Virginia, 
GEORGE C. POTTS, A. M* Pastor o£ 
th.e 4th Presbyterian Church, Phila. 

" WEThave rea&with pleasure and edification the. 
Hirst Journal of the Rev. Mr. Ely, and are happy to 



VI ADVERTISEMENT. 

learn that a Second is about appearing. Publications 
calculated to awaken Christian sympathy and benevo- 
lence, by unfolding the miseries of depraved and suf- 
fering humanity, and that have a tendency to exhibit 
the value of the Gospel of Christ as a means of re- 
generating the heart, reforming the life, or soothing 
the bed of dissolution, cannot be too widely circulated. 
Mr. Ely has our best wishes for his success in all his 
meritorious and active endeavours to advance the in- 
terests of the Mediator's kingdom.*' 
October 27th, 1815. 

WILLIAM STAUGHTON, D. D., 
Pastor of the Baptist Church in San- 
som street, Philadelphia. 
WILLIAM ROGERS, D. D., Late 
Professor in the University of Penn- 
sylvania. 

" I HAVE read a part of Mr.Ely's First Journal 
with pleasure, and am also " happy to learn that a 
Second is about appearing." 

JAMES K. BURCH, Pastor of the 5th 
Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia. 

It were superfluous to add to the preceding 
^commendations. It may, however, be per- 
mitted to state, that the first part of this Jour- 
nal has been received with as high a degree o£ 
approbation in England, as any work ever 
written on this side of the Atlantic. 

THE PUBLISHER. 






TO 

JOHN E. CALDWELL ESQUIRE, 

An Elder, 

In the Presbyterian Church in Cedar-street, New-York j 

A Gentleman, 

Of amiable manners, of erudition, and of decision of character $ 

A Christian 

Sound in the faith, and not soon weary in welUdoing } 

And a Friend, 
To 'whom, any man of feeling might willingly be indebted ' $ 
This volume is respectfully inscribe^s 
By the Gratitude, and Affection of 

THE AUTRQR, 



PREFACE 



THERE are subjects of vital importance to 
the young people of our cities, and to stran- 
gers who visit them, upon which parents rare- 
ly speak, and public teachers never preach. 
Shall no warning be given, where it is indis- 
pensably necessary, because it cannot be given 
from the pulpit ? Many laws are essential to 
the well-being of the state, which could not 
with propriety be read to a promiscuous so« 
ciety. Should they for this reason be abro- 
gated, or unwritten ? Many parts of the Bible 
are of infinite use to individuals, which it is 
best, generally, to read in private. 

From the highest authority, the author of 
this volume has taken an example, and hereby 
sends an admonition to young men, who are 
on the brink of ruin; and to females, who 
have almost passed, for some favourite indi- 
vidual, the boundaries of decorum ; with the 
hope that it will present sufficient interest to 
secure a perusal, and truth enough to make 
them tremble,. 



X PREFACE. 

The reader will meet with nothing fictitious 
in the following pages, excepting some ini- 
tials, which are designed to conceal the true 
names of the persons of whom I write ; while 
they afford an opportunity of tracing, from 
time to time, the history of the same indivi- 
dual. 

For some descriptions, with which the 
curious will meet, if any apology be deemed 
necessary, I can only say, that they are faith- 
ful exhibitions of depraved human nature, in 
the condition in which I have found it ; and 
such exhibitions as are deemed necessary by 
many of the wise and good, for the promotion 
of virtue. 

I have heard, indeed, " that a very genteel 
lady, of one of the most respectable families, 
said, concerning my former publication, " / 
-wonder if Mr* Ely thinks that a religions 
book, which is nothing but a history o^* *####■ 
and beggars?" To this extremely delicate 
person, and to all who correspond with her in 
sentiment, Lord Byron may say, 

" Gayer insects fluttering by, 

Ne'er droop the wing* o'er those that die* 
And lovelier things have mercy shown 
To every failing but their own ; 
And every woe a tear can claim, 
Except an erring sister's shame,'* 



PREFACE. XI 

Let those, who imagine that they stand, 
take heed lest they fall ; and let all sinners 
have compassion on such as are out of the 
way; yes, let us all be grateful, who enjoy 
the pleasures of a good conscience, of repu- 
tation, and abundance ; for who hath made us 
to differ ? 

That this little volume may give no offence 
to reasonable and candid men ; may furnish in 
many cases a practical application of scriptural 
doctrine ; may warn the wicked ; and encou- 
rage those, who show unto sinners the way 
of salvation, is the sincere wish of the rea- 
der's friend, 

EZRA STILES ELY. 

Philadelphia, October 20th, 1815. 



THE 



■SECOND JOURNAL; 



w^)W\>wv%)^») 



January 1st, A. D. 1813. 

'*' It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go 
to the house of feasting." 

Ecclesiastes vii. 2. 

During the year of our Lord 1812, I continued 
to preach and visit in the Hospital and Almshouse, 
as I had done the year before, but kept no Journal, 
because I was weary with writing the history of 
human miseries. The suggestion, however, that 
those who contribute to my support, will expect 
some account of my future services, and the coun- 
sel of my friends, have constrained me to resume 
the pen. If any thing may be recorded by it, which 
will contribute to the edification of the saints, or 
which will prove a solemn warning to the wicked, 
the writer will be abundantly compensated for his 
labour, and will have additional cause for gratitude 
to that God, who " careth for uso" 

It will be a matter of course for the writer to 
preach in the Hospital once, and in J:he Almshouse 
twice, weekly, and therefore the reader need not ex- 
pect any particular notice upon this subject. He 



14 A SOCIETY FORMED. 

will also visit these places weekly, and some sketches 
which appear most interesting will occupy the fol- 
lowing pages. 

vwvwvw 

January 6th, 
** Hope deferred maketh the heart sick : but when the 
desire cometh, it is a tree of life." 

Proverbs xiii. 12. 

EACH of these cases the writer may say that he 
understands from experience. Long, indeed, has 
he hoped for the formation of a society which 
should support the Gospel among the poor in this 
city. It certainly is a matter of more immediate 
moment to this metropolis, than any institution 
which has been organized, or could be founded, for 
the propagation of Christianity in foreign regions 
of the globe ; for, if any religious community, or 
evangelized city, provides not the Bread of Life for 
the indigent members of its own family, it has deni- 
ed the faith, and exhibits the worst kind of practical 
infidelity. But the desire has come, and " it is a 
tree of life." Yes, u the desire accomplished, is 
sweet to the soul." Should any one say, that my 
rejoicing is the effect of selfishness, I can only say, 
that it would gratify me more to resign my place to 
some one who would attend to its duties, than to 
retain it : but as circumstances are, I bless God that 
he has induced many of his friends to unite them- 
selves in a u Society for supporting the Gospel 
among the Poor in the City of New-Tork fi- and 
that they have thought fit to employ me as one of 



MAINTENANCE DESIRABLE. 15 

their stated preachers. Any man, who deserves 
the name of Christian, must desire a comfort- 
able maintenance, and the encouragement of pious 
friends. The few struggles which I have endured 
from my own pride, and from involuntary indi- 
gence, are more than compensated by the assurance, 
that I shall be enabled in future, while I preach to 
the poor, to live without being constantly under pe- 
cuniary obligations to some benevolent individual. 
It is a source of much felicitation, also, that some 
provision has been made for the Rev. John Stan- 
ford by the same Society. He has laboured, in 
the estimation of the world, in vain, because he has 
preached without any pecuniary compensation, at 
least one Sabbath in each month, at the State's 
Prison ; but God has given him an abundant re- 
ward in the spiritual welfare of some " prisoners of 
hope." 

It seems that the Lord is pleased, in various 
ways, to make provision for my wants of a temporal 
nature, while I am attempting to administer to the 
necessities of some of the poor saints, and of others 
that remain miserable sinners. ■, To-day a letter came 
to hand, which I record with my best thanks to the 
yeaerable writer, of which the following is a 

COPY. 

January 4th, 1813. 

u REV. SIR, 

Having read your Journal, while preaching and 
visiting at the Hospital and Almshouse in the city 
of New-York ; and being informed that you have 



16 LETTER FROM SENEX. 

not been reasonably supported in this very import- 
ant labour of love to the souls of the depraved and 
miserable of our race ; permit me, Sir, to cast in 
my mite towards your support, that you may not be 
discouraged in a work, which, though unprofitable 
in this world, will, most assuredly, produce you in- 
conceivable riches in the world to come. Remem- 
ber, that he who counts the hairs of your head, and 
without whom a sparrow cannot fall to the ground, 
will never suffer you to want, while engaged in so 
glorious a cause. You are in the service of the best 
of Masters ; I pray you, therefore, hold out to the 
end. If you have, ere this, been reasonably provi- 
ded for by a stated provision, you may devote this 
to the common cause, in the way that you think 
best. 

" Be so good as to draw on the Cashier of the 
bank of Newark, in your own name, for fifty dol- 
lars. I have taken care that it shall be duly hon- 
oured. 

u I am, Rev. Sir, with the most ardent wishes 
and prayers for your success in the Gospel, 
" Yours, most affectionately, 

" SENEX. 
" Rev. E. S. Ely." 

The letter contained the post-mark of Burlington, 
in New-Jersey. Before I consigned it to my file of 
honour, the back of it was endorsed with the fol- 
lowing 

NOTE, 

" When I opened this letter, not recognizing the 
hand, I expected an insult, like many which I have 



HOPE IN DISAPPOINTMENT. 17 

received on the subject of The Contrast ; but, 
behold ! the Lord has given me another benefactor. 
I know by experience, and have often rejoiced in the 
truth, that none of them that trust in Him shall be 
desolate. Psalm xxxiv. 22." 

WWW WW 

January 9th. 

IN compliance with the order of Senex, I drew a 
check on the bank of Newark, and gave it to a gen- 
tleman, to whom I communicated the reason of my 
drawing it, that he might forward it for acceptance. 
He presented it to the Merchants' Bank of this city, 
with his own name on the back of it, and received 
the money, which he paid into my hands. Yester- 
day the check was presented at Newark, and the 
Cashier returned it with his protest, and a written 
declaration that I had no authority for drawing it. 

Thus I stand, at present, impeached before two 
banks, with the intention of gaining money by fraud- 
ulent measures. The letter of Senex I have en- 
closed to the president of the bank of Newark, that 
he may clear my character of the unhappy imputa- 
tation, which for a moment rests upon it. Still I 
believe with equal confidence, that none of them that 
trust in Him shall be desolate. 

wvwvvw 

January 10th. 
ON the 8th instant two athletic men were brought 
into the Hospital, who were taken sick five days be- 
fore, at the same hour. They lay beside each other 
for two days, and this morning died within five 
b2 



IS A GENUINE CATHOLIC* 

minutes of each other. It was a solemn lecture 
from the king of terrors, especially to those who 
were occupants of the same ward. One who wit- 
nessed the scene is a Catholic, who was a short time 
since in the hourly expectation of death from the 
rupture of a blood-vessel. This man deserves the 
name which I have given him ; for although of the 
Romish religion, yet he is so catholic as to believe, 
in spite of his former prejudices, that all who are in 
Christ Jesus, of every denomination, shall be saved. 
When I saw him, the other day, he was spitting 
blood profusely, and after I had prayed with him, 
he lifted up his hands to heaven, and uttered, in the 
presence of all, a very solemn and affecting address 
to the Saviour of sinners. Not far from his side 
lay, at that time, one of the same persuasion, who 
had often turned away his ear from me, because I 
had no lighted candles and wafers ; but he was 
finally disposed to listen, and even desired me to 
pray for him. He too is now gone u to dust and si- 
lence, darkness and the tomb." 



vwvwvw 



January 11th* 
l (l Your brethren that hated you, that cast you out for my 
name's sake, said, Let the Lord be glorified : but he 
■ - shall appear to your joy, and they shall be ashamed."- 

Isaiah lxvi. 5. 
WHAT will finally result from the letter of Se- 
nex, it is impossible to say. If the Lord intends a 
favour by it, he must intend also to humble me, that 
I may be prepared for the reception of it. The cry 
seems almost breaking from the lips of some, who 



SUSPICION OF SWINDLING. 19 

must misconstrue the circumstances, " Stop thief! 
Stop thief!" It will yet be well, (but how I know, 
not,) and enemies shall not triumph over the cause 
which I would seek to honour. Dr. Samuel Miller 
was so kind as to call on me to-day, and present the 
following communication : 

" Ne-W'Ttirk, January ll^/? 7 1813. 
"rev. and dear sir, 

" I have this moment received a letter from Mr. 
Richards, of Newark, which, among other things, 
contains the following paragraph. I hasten to com- 
municate it to you. 

" l A circumstance occurred in the Newark bank, 
^yesterday, which has caused some speculation* 
6 A check drawn upon this bank by Ezra Stiles Ely 7 
4 for fifty dollars, and which, at the recommendation 
4 of Jesse Baldxviriy had been paid to Mr. Ely by 
4 one of the banks in your city, was presented here 
4 for payment. The check was not good ; and the 
*- cashier of the bank assured me that Mr. Ely never 

* had any dealings with the bank, nor yet with the 

* State bank, newly established in this town. I 
i should like to know whether Mr. Ely is yet in the 

* city. If he is, probably he will be able to give an^ 
4 explanation, which will relieve the feelings of some 

4 people in this place. I rely on your prudence to 
1 keep this statement where it ought to be.' 

u I have not imparted, and do not intend to im- 
part, the above, to any human being but yourself. 

" I am, Sir, your fellow-labourer in the 
" Vineyard of Christ, 
« Rev. Mr. Ely. « SAMUEL MILLER." 



20 SUSPICION SILENCED* 

January 12th. 
Here comes the explanation, and with it the dona- 
tion of fifty dollars. Surely, I had something in 
bank, upon which I could draw ! 

EXTRACT 

Of a Letter from the President of the Bank* 
a I had received on Wednesday morning, notice 
of your being authorized to draw for the fifty dol- 
lars. I immediately went to the bank, left the check 
for that sum drawn in your favour ; but as it was 
not to be used until your order came, the cashier 
laid it on one side ; and when your draft came, in 
the multiplicity of business, he had forgotten the 
name, until I sent to him this morning. He ex- 
ceedingly regrets the mistake, but I hope no injury 
has resulted to you from it. 
" I am, Rev. Sir, 

" Your most ob*. serv*. 

"ELISHA BOUDINOTc" 
The Cashier took the trouble to send to the State 
bank, and inquire if the writer had any account 
there, and then proclaimed what, if true, would have 
proved me a swindler ; when he alone, by his neg- 
ligence, was the author of all nay trouble, and his 
own future mortification ! 



A CASE OF SEDUCTION. 21 

January 17 th. 

9 Her heavy eyes are half-closed ; the blood pours from her 
side. Son of Momi, she said, prepare the narrow tombs 
Sleep comes, like a cloud, on my soul. The eyes of 
Oithona are dim. O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the 
bright beam of my fame ! then had my years come on 
with joy ; and the virgins would bless my steps. But I 
fall in youth, son- of -Momi, and ray father shall blush m 
his hall l" 

Ossian's Oithona,. 

MANY young men, like the son of Morni, have 
directed the fatal arrow to the heart of Oithona ; 
but none of them can console themselves with the 
reflection, that they were ignorant of what they did. 
Let me lead them to the Hospital, trad I will show 
them the victims of their murderous seductions! 
There one lies in the agonies of death, who is young, 
and who five years ago was ignorant of their de- 
vices. Then she was beautiful, and the object of 
parental solicitude. She was of a genteel family in 
Baltimore ; was addressed by a young Englishman 
of fortune ; and in an unguarded moment, by the 
promise and expectation of marriage, was deceiveda 
To retrace her steps, and recall the past, was impos- 
sible. 

" Time's a tell-tale !" 

Her infant child was received and caressed by 
her parents ; but with cold disdain the erring 
daughter was driven from the mansion which she 
had fondly thought her home. The unrelenting 
severity of those who were accessory to her life, in- 
duced despair. With her deceiver she fled to New« 



22 CRUEL PARENTS. 

York, and for a considerable time was under hi& 
" protection." His promises, however, were soon 
out of date, and he left the mother of his offspring, 
still young and beautiful, to the mercy of— the mer- 
ciless world. 

About this time one of the nurses, now in the 
Hospital, saw her ; who observes, that " she was a 
perfect doll in beauty." The nurse then exhorted 
her to turn from her evil way of life ; but she re- 
plied, ** I have never been taught to do any kind of 
work ; I have no friends.that will receive me; and 
I must proceed, or perish with hunger." 

ie If won, to equal ills betrayed, 
Woe waits the insect and the maid j 
A life of pain, the loss of peace, 
From infant's play, and man's caprice 2 
The lovely toy, so fiercely sought, 
Has lost its charm by being caught, 
For every touch that wooM its stay ? 
Has brush'd its brightest hues away ; 
Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone, 
3 Tis left to fly or fall alone ." 

Byron. 

Now she is as destitute of mind as the bed on 
which she reclines, is covered with putrefaction, and 
must sink down a loathsome, unfriended object to 
the grave ! 

But thy parents were sinners too ! Should they 
not have pitied and rescued thee, lost female ? 

Could her soul communicate any thoughts to her 
unhappy companions ; could her tongue move, me* 



THE THEATRE DANGEROUS, 23 

thinks her language would be — " Why did i not 
pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that 
lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered 
leaves on the blast ? I pass away in my youth, and 
my name shall not be heard. Or it will be heard 
with sorrow, and the tears of Nuath will fall. Thou 
wilt be sad, son of Morni, for the fallen fame of 
Oithona. But she shall sleep in the narrow tomb $ 
far from the voice of the mourner./' 

wvwww 

January 20th, 
THE Rev. A. Stansbury, a minister sound in 
doctrine and chaste in style, preached for me, in the 
Almshouse, this evening. After public worship, I 
visited a dying woman, who felt herself to be a lost 
sinner, and wished to know how she could be saved* 
Her room was full of dirty, ragged, miserable be» 
ings, but they all paid attention to the instruction 
'afforded their dying companion. 



January 2 Is*. 
EARLY this morning, a sick man, W. F. sent 
for me to call at the Almshouse, and pray with him. 
Repeatedly I have visited him, but he is never 
weary of hearing the Gospel, and of uniting in pray- 
er. This man, when young, was extravagantly fond 
of the theatre, and associated with lewd people there, 
so long, that he lost his health, and, by the virulence 
of disease, his eyes. After he was thus visited for 
iniquity, the present place of his residence became 
his only home. Here he n&arried one of the pau- 



24 , A DRUNKARD. 

pers, by whom he has a large family of children* 
He expresses much gratitude for my attentions to 
the welfare of his soul, and declares, that he desires 
complete sanctification from his sins, while his sole 
confidence for justification is reposed in Jesus 
Christ. This man I would not reproach with the 
past, which he deplores, but to the reader I must 
say, that attachment to theatrical amusements took 
this person from all serious business, exposed him 
to strong temptations, and, in the issue, not only de- 
prived him of sight, but made him the father of a 
numerous race of paupers. He was a man of no 
mean mental powers ; but now he reposes in one of 
the lowest wards of the Almshouse, wears a long 
beard, is exposed to vermin, and is surrounded by 
every thing which is calculated to offend his remain- 
ing senses, and annihilate all hope for the present 
life. 

In the same room an old woman reclined on the 
floor, before the fire, who was violently affected 
with an ague. She was brought in from the street, 
yesterday, and has undoubtedly destroyed herself 
by inebriation. I spake to her of death, judgment, 
and eternity ; of salvation by Christ, and damnation 
by sin. She could not reply ; but she shed one soli- 
tary tear, shook her head, and uttered lamentable 
groans. 

In the Hospital I have had a long conversation 
with a yellow man, who was taught to read by the 
society of Friends. They gave him a Bible, which 
he highly esteems, and which he has read abundant- 



LABOUR IN VAIN* 26 

. %y. He was reading it when I entered the room, 
'and expressed a wish that the patients might all 
be made wise by their afflictions. He united in my 
desire, he said ; but added, that it was a difficult 
thing. He had lived, he informed me, with all sorts 
of people, and had found that nothing but the Bible 
was the thing. " It is my strongest desire to abide 
by that" he said, " but how to do it, is the difficulty* 
It tells me that no unrighteous man shall enter hea- 
ven, and I cannot get clear from all sin yet, I strive 
to be holy, and I know that by the help of God I must 
make myself perfectly holy before I die, or lam lost" 
" You cannot make yourself holy by your own 
unassisted exertions," I said; " and will never be 
perfectly free from sin while you live j yet, if you 
are a Christian, you will nevertheless seek for per- 
fect purity ; but not as the ground of your accept- 
ance with God." 

" Why, now, I will tell you zvhat I think. lean 
■do nothing without help ; but by God's help I hope 
to get perfect before I die, that I may be received to 
glory ; and III tell you, one passage troubles me 
much, for it says, if the righteous scarcely be saved, 
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear? 
That shows if s hard work to be saved, and I find 
it so." 

Never have I conversed with any one who ap- 
peared more sincerely to seek perfection as the 
ground of his own salvation. The doctrine of ac- 
ceptance on account of the righteousness of Christ 
was, as the reader might expect, urged upon his 
c 



20 THE YELLOW MAN. 



consideration. It seemed a new doctrine of righte- 
ousness, for which he could hardly relinquish his 
previous scheme of a righteousness, which he sup- 
posed the Spirit of Christ should co-operate with 
him in effecting, for his justification. 

Finally, I asked, if he could live without prayer. 
"Well, now, I will tell you fairly, I do pray ; but 
when I cfrft sincere, I know that I gain nothing by 
it; and I must tell you that I find it hard to pray 
for my enemies as I "would for my friends." 

" Do you wish to injure those who injure you ? 
Perhaps you feel a strong inclination to double up 
that great fist, and knock your adversary down. 
Our old nature not unfrequently excites such a dis- 
position, especially in men of your frame of body, 
and situation in life." 

" Well, then, I'll be honest here too* When I see 
a man whom I do not like, I pass, straight by him, 
without taking any notice of him ; and I wish he 
may be a better man. That's all ; for I know that 
if I do not forgive my enemies, I shall not be for- 
given. But, as I said before, when I pray, I feel it 
hard to pray for my, enemies as for my friends." 

There is something in this person's mind and 
manner, which appears superior to any thing which 
I have ever found in one of his complexion. It shall 
be my endeavour to instruct him more perfectly in 
the doctrines of Christ. 

To-day my gratitude to God has been renewedly 
excited, and I have additional evidence that God 
will not send a soldier of the cross on an expedition 



A DEBT PAID* 27 

at his own charges. Many, on the publication of 
my first Journal, expressed their astonishment, that, 
in such a benevolent city as this, any preacher to the 
poor should fail of receiving maintenance. The 
truth is, that the reputation which the pious people 
of this metropolis have for liberality, is well-found- 
ed ; but my situation was not generally known. 
It was supposed by many that I received a compe- 
tence ; and others, (few, however, in number,) from 
some doctrinal differences, wished that penury 
might drive me from the city. The following is 

AN EXTRACT 

From the Minutes of the Board of Trustees of the 

Society for Supporting the Gospel among the 

Poor in the City of New-Tork, at a meeting held 

on the 20th of January, 1813. 

Whereas, it has become known to this board that 

the Rev. Ezra Stiles Ely is indebted to the amount 

of two hundred dollars, in consequence of the very 

small compensation received for his past services as 

stated Preacher of the Hospital and Almshouse ; 

Resolved, That the Treasurer pay to Mr. Ely 
two hundred dollars, as a donation from this Socie- 
ty, to enable him to discharge that debt. 

John E, Caldwell, Sec*ry, 
Once more then, I can say, that I " owe no man 
sii-y ihing, but love* 5 ' 



28 SICKNESS AND DEATH,. 

January 24th, 

WITHIN the last twelve hours I have preached 
four discourses, besides performing all the other 
usual services of public worship. In the last exer- 
cise I stood between two rooms in the Almshouse, 
and preached to an unusual number. Some of the 
paupers were much affected, and particularly a 
young woman, S. A. E — , of lovely countenance, 
who lay beside my table, sick of a fever. After ser- 
mon, I conversed with her, but her language was in 
whispers and tears. She knew that she was a great 
sinner, she said, but could not doubt Christ's ability 
to save even herself. 

In the Hospital the yellow man was eagerly atten- 
tive to the doctrine of the believer's union to Christ, 
by which he is constituted a new creature, I am 
weary indeed, but not with the Gospel, which I 
have been proclaiming to four attentive audiences. 

To-day the old woman who lay on the floor of 
the Almshouse cellar, on the 21st instant, departed 
this life. A drunken life ends in a dreadful death* 

■www WW 

January 25th, 
"W— F — sent for me again, to hear more of 
Christ, and was anxious to have me speak loud, that 
all the poor people in the room might hear. He says 
that he can understand my doctrine better than any 
which he has heard, and does not desire any other 
earthly teacher. In the Hospital, I prayed in a ward 
appropriated to depraved females, in which are, at 



A PRAYING SOCIETY, 29 

present, four or five very young and delicate lost 
ones. When I first began to exhort them, I could 
see the smile of the abandoned playing around the 
lips of several of them ; but in a few moments, when 
I reminded them of the premature death of a multi- 
tude of their companions, they became solemn. 

The evening was spent with a small praying soci- 
ety, which has existed for many years, (I believe 
for*about twenty,) without intermission. This can 
be said of few establishments of the kind, for Chris- 
tians in general are too prone to become weary in 
well doing, and fluctuate from zeal to lamentable 
stupidity. Something new is then requisite, to ex- 
cite their sluggish spirits, and hence religious asso- 
ciations, founded on the best principles, rise and 
fall. Not unfrequently one or two zealous and 
discreet persons will preserve, for a long time, the 
life of piety in their little company, and therefore 
the few, who are capable of leading in social wor- 
ship, should be punctual and constant, 

January 26th. 
THIS morning, at the request of Mrs. L — C-— , 
I visited a young man, Mr. C— — -r, who is on the 
verge of the grave with the consumption. He has 
been in the Hospital twice, with the desire of gain- 
ing relief, but his case is beyond the physician's 
skill. His mother has a little room in the third 
story of an old house, in which she attends to her 
sick son, and schools eight or ten children. The 
floor was carpeted, and every thing was neat. The 
c2 



30 THE PAUPER S HYMN. 

son seems to have some knowledge of the nature of 
faith, without any skill in describing it. He has 
been a wild youth ; but for a few years past his 
present disorder, preying on his lungs, has made 
him thoughtful. I asked him in what manner 
a sinner became interested in the Lord Jesus 
Christ? and he answered, "by praying to him, 
seeking him, loving him, and keeping his command- 
ments." He had, therefore, no idea of any but a 
practical faith in Christ, 

January 27th. 
W — F — is still very sick. I found him in bed 
with his wife and some of their children. His gra- 
titude for a little religious attention is very greaf. 
W-— R — , the blind boy, has rarely failed of repeat- 
ing one hymn, after public worship, weekly, for 
more than six months. A few moments before go- 
ing to the Almshouse this evening, I composed the 
following stanzas, which were sung by Blini> 
George and his followers. 

HYMN. C. M.- 

li Behold, the poor, the lame, the blind, 
The sick, the wretched meet, 
Where beggars royal favour find, 
E'en at the mercy seat. 

2. With all our poverty and pais, 
With all our weight of sinv 



A" SICK YOUTH. - 3t- 

We come, not wishing to complain^ 
But Christ himself to win* 

3. O may the Son of David hear 

The humble prayer we raise, 
That he would dry the widow's tear,.. 
And nil her heart with praise . 

4. Remember, Lord, the fatherless, 

And bid the drooping rise, 

Remember age in deep distress,. 

And make the dying wise* 

5. Thou blessed Jesus, come and dwell 

Within each trembling breast ; 
Deliver us from sin and hell, 
And give us, sinners, rest. 



■^wvwvw 



January 28th, 

"- WHEN I was in the Hospital," said the young 
man, Mr. C r, whom I visited on the 26th, and 
again to-day, " I did not much regard your preach- 
ing, but I have had much time for reflection, and 
now the same things seem of infinite consequence. 
I would not, for all'the gold I could lift, return to 
my past sins." Many similar things he said, and 
assured me, that his hope of eternal happiness, 
through Jesus Christ, is so strong that he is willing 
to die* 



32 A SCOTCH-IRISH WOMAN. 

In the Hospital I conversed with a Scotch- Irish 
woman , who was brought in by one of the Dorcas 
Society. She was found in a miserable condition, 
but for many weeks has been made as comfortable 
as her diseases will permit. Like most of her coun- 
try-women, she speaks of doctrinal subjects with 
more propriety than is usual with people of other 
nations. Of the heart of this woman I cannot 
judge, but you will never hear her speak of accept- 
ance with God, on any other ground than that of the 
righteousness of Christ. 

The yellow man pleases me. u Sir, I was think- 
ing" he said, "just now, that if it were not for re- 
ligion, we should have no Hospital, and no such good 
provision/or us" All charitable institutions of this 
kind have certainly sprung from the benign influ- 
ence of Christianity. 

Of Christ he said, " Well, now, I think he did all 
he could for us, for he died for us, and we must do 
the best we can, and look to him, for if the truth 
was known, I think he is now in heaven praying for 
us, poor sinners" With the sermon last Sabbath, 
he professes to have been pleased and instructed. 
The rheumatism may prove his spiritual good, 
God grant it. 

January 5\st. 

Mr. L. Sleeker, a distinguished member of the - 

Baptist Church, was with me this evening at the 

Almshouse, offered a prayer after sermon, and made 

a few serious and pertinent remarks. While I was 



ANOTHER DRUNKARD. S3 

speaking, a drunkard, with a bloated face^sat beside 
me- I fixed my eyes sternly on him, and said, 
" The man who is dead in trespasses and sins, will 
give abundant evidence of it, by following the sins 
to which he is addicted. If the love of intemperate 
drinking is his besetting sin, he will become intoxi- 
cated when he has the opportunity. Do you be- 
lieve this l" 

The drunkard looked at me full in the face, and 
nodded his head. I continued to fix my counte- 
nance on him, and said, " it is not so difficult, 
then, as some imagine, to ascertain whether men 
are dead in sin, or alive to God. Will not the per- 
son who is quickened by the Holy Ghost, give as 
good evidence that he is alive, as the drunkard that 
he is attached to his cups ?" 

Here the drunkard's fire kindled into new flames, 
a tear stood in each eye, for a second, but nature 
had become so degraded, that he immediately after 
smiled, and nodded assent again. 

Instantaneously I quoted, " woe unto you that 
laugh now, for ye shall mourn and weep. 5 ' At this 
his countenance was fallen, and I turned from him, 
that he might not be exasperated, while I continued 
to pre'ss the same subject home on his mind, by the 
similar allusions. ,» m 

Wherk Mr. Bkeker began to speak, he said, " I 
dare say that many of you do not believe a word of 
what you have heard ; but it is all solemn truth.' 3 
Then looking on this same drunkard, he asked, 
" Do you believe that you are dead in trespasses and 



34 FAITH AND WORKS. 

sins ; that you are without divine and spiritual 
life ?" The half-intoxicated man answered, " Yes., 
I do believe it, and think we have had a very fine 
sermon." 

Mr. Bleeker. " No, you do not believe it ; for if 
you did, you could not lead such a life as you do." 

Drunkard, " Why, yes, I do believe that I am a 
sinner, and that all are sinners.'' 

Mr, Bleeker, " If you believed in your heart that 
you was dead in sin, you could not act, and feel, as 
you do ; but it is an easy thing to affirm that we 
believe." 

The poor wretch got up and staggered away five 
or six paces to another seat ; and Mr. Bleeker, in 
continuance of his discourse, said, u I must tell you 
plainly, from the evidence of my own senses, that I 
think some who are here, are intoxicated now, and 
are habitually intemperate ; and these persons are 
certainly dead in sins. Except they are born ^gain, 
they must certainly be damned !" 

An evil course of conduct is undoubtedly conclu- 
sive against any man, who asserts that he possesses 
faith. Let it be a settled principle that a miser 
loves money ; let me inform him that a certain field, 
which is for sale, contains a pearl of immense value ; 
and if he does not take measures to secure that 
field, it must be in consequence of his not believing 
my testimony. Should he say, " Sir, I am eager 
for wealth, and I believe what you affirm, but shall 
take no measures to secure that pearl, which you 
say is within my reach j" I should feel at liberty to 



BLIND W F — . 35 

rejoin, "the truth is not in you." In like manner, 
if sinners affirm that they believe the Gospel, and 
do not act conformably to the spirit of faith, they 
deceive themselves, or they are liars who would de- 
lude others. 

We descended into the filthy apartment of W-=— 
F — . " Well, William, how are you to-night ? Do 
you find any thing to comfort you V* 

u Thank you, Mr. Ely ; I'm no better, but I trust 
in the Lord Jesus Christ," 

Mr, Bleeker. " But what encourages you to trust 
in him, my friend ?'' 

W. F. " His word, I pray to hhnfor mercy" 

Mr, Bleeker, " But you must not trust to your 
prayers. Do you think that you know God ; and 
how long have you known him V y 

W. F. " Not till lately ; since I was blind." 

Mr, Bleeker, " What makes you think that you 
have an interest in Christ £" 

W, F. " His Spirit touches mine ; I feel it ; 
and he applies the precious blood of Christ to my 
conscience." 

This answer evinces that most of this blind man's 
notions are derived from the faculty of feeling. 
How forcible the expression, " His Spirit touches 
mine !" Much similar language I have heard from 
him. 

We ascended to one of the Hospital wards, and 

here I heard S. A. E , the young woman whom 

t addressed on the 24th instant, utter in whispers 
many sentiments suitable to her situation. She is 



36 INTENSE COLI>. 

mild and calm, and full of prayer, in the intervals" 
of her frequently recurring fits. Her whisper to 
Christ affected me, and especially the expression of 
her gratitude, for m yfirst attempt to exhibit his sal- 
vation, for her acceptance. Really, she has a beauti- 
ful face, a countenance that speaks, and I cannot 
but wonder what should have brought her to this 
abode of misery. 

In one day last week the Superintendent of the 
Almshouse relieved a thousand poor families, with- 
out the walls of the Institution. In this severity of 
cold, how many are the sufferers in this wide city ! 

Great God ! how terrible thy frost ! 

Before its progress who could stand ? 
Continue it, and all are lost ; 

An icy death pervades the land. 

Thou, who hast formM the drops of dew, 

And art the Father of the rain, 
At whose command the white winds blew, 

And cover'd all the rocky plain j 

Regard the children of distress, 

And banish these congealing pains j 

Let not stern Winter long oppress 

The thousands who have felt his chains* 

O bid the secret south wind rise, 

With power to melt the rigid foe > 
Then ev'ry storm, reluctant, flies, 

And all the streams of comfort flow. 



THE ASTONISHING LOVE OF CHRIST. $7 

But chiefly, to the frozen heart, 

O may the Spirit's quick'ning breath, 

Such penetrating warmth impart, 
As saves it from the second deaths 

Let Spring return to polar skies, 

Which once have felt the cheering light ; 

And Christ illume the sinner's eyes, 
Long winters clos'd in dismal night* 



A/WWVVW 



February 2d. 

DOLING C- r, the son of a poor widow, seems 

to enjoy a calm and heavenly frame of mind. The 
love of Christ appears to engross his feeble powers, 
and at times confound them. " He wonders that 
so soon as Christ died for sinners, all men zvho heard 
of it, did not leave off sinning, and become perfect- 
Ihf holy. They ought to have dene it, and I wonder 
they did not," 

" But have you become perfectly holy since you 
believed in Jesus for your own salvation V y 

"Oh, no! I am a poor unworthy creature" 

" Does it not astonish you to think, that Christ 
died for such an offender as you are V 

" Tes, Sir; but it more astonishes me, that when 
Christ once died for shiners, he should be willing to 
do it again" 

<c I do not understand your meaning." 

D 



38 JUSTICE AND GRACE. 

" 7" mean, that if yvu had died for me^ and I 
woi?d''ri , t thank you for it, and should reject you, 
it would be moat astonishing 1 if you would offer 
yourself to me again" 

•' Christ certainly does urge himself, again and 
again, upon many sinners, who lon^slight his prof- 
fers of peace, pardon, and sanctification. Yea, he 
persuades, and enables the sinner to receive him by 
faith ; and this shows us that salvation from begin- 
ning to end is an unmerited gift." 

w I feel that I have nothing to give him in re- 
turn* 

"True, my young friend, you have nothing to 
give but a sinful and broken heart. You can never 
make any payment to God, nor does he require it. 
If all should perish, it would be by justice j but if 
any are saved, it is by grace. Justice damns men, 
but grace saves men. You ought to be thankful, 
and bless God with your dying lips, for revealing 
Jesus to you ; but when God requires you to be 
happy, and makes you holy, that you may enjoy 
him, you do not thereby merit any thing." 

" Oh, Sir, he is a kind and just God" 

" Yes, he is the just God and Saviour.*' 

To this object of faith and love we then address- 
ed our prayers ; while the little school, and the mis- 
tress, the mother of the dying youth, bended their 
knees before the God of the widow, and Father of 
the fatherless. 



THE GENUINE CATHOLIC. 39 

February 3d, 

THE Catholic, whom I saw on the 10th of Janu- 
ary, has experienced much relief for some time past, 
and I have invariably found him respectful and 
grateful. Now he has a relapse, is raising offensive 
matter from his lungs profusely, but still appears 
the same in mind. He united in prayer very de- 
voutly. An Irishman I found, with a bible at his 
head, and said, " Friend, you have the word of God 
near you." 

" Yes, Sir," he replied ; " many persons have the 
best things near them, of which they make little 
or no use." The remainder of his observations 
breathed the same spirit. 

All the patients are still and attentive, when I 
enter a room, and testify their respect for that reli- 
gion of which I am a minister. Sickness seems to 
amalgamate all denominations, and make any teach- 
er of religion, who honours his Master, the object 
of their veneration. 

My audience this evening was very full and at- 
tentive ; and with all the severity which I can justi- 
fy in the language of a messenger of grace to guilty 
men, I attempted to expose, that I might reprove, 
the peculiar transgressions of my hearers. The 
depravity of man consists in his being dead in tres- 
passes and sins to every thing which is holy, and in 
being alive to all manner of moral evil, so as to 
regulate his conduct by the course of this world, the 
temptations of the prince of the power of the air, and 
the lusts of the flesh- 



40 THE PAUPER'S WORLD. 

Bat what have the paupers to do with the alluring 
world, from which they seem excluded ? Ay, there 
is a world within the Almshouse, which has its prin- 
ciples, fashions, and evil courses ; but what the 
paupers are deficient in the sins of high life, they 
more than make up by the lusts of the flesh. If 
the population of the city were to remain the same, 
and children were not born and educated in the 
Almshouse for the devil, I do verily believe that in 
ten years the number of persons dependent on this 
Institution would be less by half than it now is. 
Drunkenness and lewdness are the common vices of 
the place ; and of the'paupers, which are not foreign* 
ers, much the greater portion is the offspring of the 
house. The evil will extend, and the miserable 
will procreate children of misery, until the new es- 
tablishment is completed, in which the sexes will 
be separated, and into which, it is to be hoped, ar- 
dent spirits will not find their way, except it be to 
the apothecary's shop. 

With W— F— prayer was offered, and he tells 
me, that he does cheerfully resign himself into the 
Lord's hands, to be disposed of by him, for time 
and eternity, as he shall deem best. 

February 5th, 

THE young woman, S. A. E -, with whom I 

conversed on the 24th and 31st days of last month, 
is recovering. She appears to be very grateful to 
God for prolonging her space for repentance. 



THE STOLEN COUNTRY-GIRL. 41 

This afternoon I have, in three rooms of the 
Almshouse, prayed with at least thirty women of 
the baser sort. Among them was A— W — , the 
stolen country-girl, whose history is given in my 
former Journal, who is still bedrid, and who has 
never had the use of her limbs, since I have been- 
acquainted with her. She has been visited by her 
mother ; but poverty, and the care of her other chil- 
dren, prevented her from removing her daughter. 
A— W — was affected at my discourse ; the tears, 
which she could not suppress, arose in her eyes, and 
she said, " I have no hope from this world ; I must 
live and die here." 

" And in a miserable place, too," I said i " but 
have you any hope of finally entering into everlast- 
ing life ? Do you pray to the Lord Jesus Christ 
every day, and often ?"' 

" O yes, Sir, in my heart, as well as I know how." 

Another young woman sat on her bed, sewing, to 
whom I gave, some months ago, from Mr. Benjamin 
Allen's liberality, Doddridge's Rise and Progress* 
She had been thoughtful for some time, and was 
glad to be instructed. Poor thing ! she has been 
unable to get off her bed for two years, and must re- 
main in this situation, until death shall release her 
spirit, from the wretchedly abused frame* 

To one bloated, and full of blotches, I directed my 
discourse, and she attempted to cry, but could not 
succeed. Another conducted in a very different 
manner. She must be thirty years of age, and has 
many remains of beauty. From her parched lips, 
d2 



42 A PEEVISH SINNER. 

and extremely emaciated body, I perceived that she 
could not live long, and therefore, bowing my head 
over ihG staff of my umbrella, said, '* My fellow- 
sinner, you must soon die, and" " And I don't 

care how soon /" she interposed ; and rolling up her 
penetrating eyes, gave a sad sigh ! 

" The sooner I die the better" 

" Do you think yourself prepared, by faith in the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and repentance for sin, to appear 
before God t" 

" I hadn't studied that point" 

u Are you willing, then, to be removed from this 
wretched place, to a worse t n 

" This is bad enough I ■ Vve had nothing but mise- 
ry here*" 

u And are likely to have nothing but misery in 
the world to come : for you are by nature dead in 
trespasses and sins. You are a child of wrath. 
God has afflicted you here, and if you die in your 
present state, you must sink down to hell, to become 
the companion of devils and damned man." 

" I have not thought much about these things" 

" It is high time that you had, for you are draw- 
ing near to the grave j and after death, it will be for 
ever too late to think of seeking heaven. While in 
this world you must be reconciled to God, or be- 
damned in the next. Now can you tell me how it 
is possible for you to be saved \" 

u I ari*t larn'd in these things; but I hope I- 
shcfrCt go to a worse xvorld than this*" 



A TALL COUNTRY-GIRL. 4*3. 

Such are the persons with whom I have to deal 
concerning their immortal souls, in the name of 
Him, who is the Saviour of sinners. Of all the dis- 
agreeable places which I have ever seen, none are to 
be compared with some wards in this Institution ; 
for the pollution of every kind which infects their 
occupants. 

February 7th. 

A detail of the events of this Sabbath, and par^ 
ticularly of this evening, would occupy pages, if 1 
had sufficient strength to record them. A few hints 
must suffice. During public worship, the woman 
with whom I held a discourse on the 5th instant, 
was attentive. Oh her bed sat a tall country-girl, 
M— *• M— ., who five or six months ago returned, 
voluntarily, to her mother in the country; but her 
mother is poor, and the girl's health is so miserable 
that she is not able to earn her food. Her old dis« 
ease has never been wholly eradicated ; and before 
she went home her physician told me, that he did not 
think it ever could be. She soon came back, there- 
fore, because she could not have suitable medical 
attendance in the country ; and because our Alms- 
house is the grand receptacle of blasted, withered, 
dying females. While George sung, " Mercy, O 
thou Son of David," this forlorn creature wept abun- 
dantly. 

" After sermon W — R*— repeated a hymn, an& : 

Mr. B r distributed many tracts, for which 

most of the hearers were eager., We then passed' 



44 

into the opposite room. I stood between two very 
sick women, of the looser sort, who could not be 
younger than forty. They both confessed them- 
selves to be exceedingly vile ; and when I asked 
one, for what I should particularly pray, she replied, 
u that I may have an interest in heaven, so that, 
should I suddenly be called away, I may not be re- 
jected." When 1 had offered prayer with her, I 
passed to a woman no better than either of these, 
who was calmly contending with. Mr. B r, that 
she always had a good heart. 

" Are you not a sinner?" I demanded. 

" No. My heart is good by nature ; I never saw 
a distressed person but I wished to help them, and 
did all in my power, I've done all I could, and be- 
haved as well as I knew hoxv, and therefore expect I 
that God won't be very strict with me" 

" Have you done no evil ? Or, granting even that, 
which is not true, for I find you in a bad place j have 
you not come short of the glory of God . ? How came 
you here if you are not a sinner ?' 3 

With a solemn face and much 'earnestness, she 
still maintained her integrity of heart, when, to cut 
the matter short, I asked, 

" Do you think yourself better than the apostle 
Paul? 53 

" Why , no, I can't say lam better" 

a Know, then, that he confessed himself a sinner, 
and after his -conversion could say, '. O wretched 
man that I am ; who shall deliver me from the body 
of this death?' If 2 then,, you are not better than 



SELF-RIGHTEOU3NE5S. 43 

Paul was, you have a wicked heart j but if you are 
better, you are welcome to contend for a higher seat 
in heaven. Remember, however, that if you are as 
much of a sinner as Paul was, and do not repent, 
you must be accursed for ever." 

This is a true picture of the self-righteousness of 
an unprincipled woman. O what a proud rebel is 
fallen, degraded, abandoned man ! 

With two ladies, and Mr. B r, who came to 

attend on divine worship with us, I descended into 
W — £ — 's room. He is much weaker, but ap- 
pears to have gained some knowledge. He quoted 
a part of the twenty- third Psalm very appropriate- 
ly, saying, that he remembered the verse from hav- 
ing heard good old Dr. Rodgers preach from it, 
when he could himself see, and when he was a very 
wicked young man." I spoke of his having follow- 
ed plays, and similar follies ; but I could easily per- 
ceive that he is truly ashamed of those unprofitable 
works* 

An old, deformed woman, who lay on the nest 
bed, turned over and said, with a very coarse voice, 
" Poor William is very sick, and I offered to say 
prayers to him, but he did nae like 'em. But I 
think he may'n't get better ones for a' that. I of- 
fered to sing to him too, a hymn about Jesus, but 
he did nae like that neither, and so I sang on, nor- 
thing Tninding him a bit." 

" Do you really, then, pray ?" I asked, and she 
rejoined, " Ay, to be shaure, and why shouldVt 
I do that ?" 



46 FALLACIOUS CONFIDENCE. 

" Certainly you ought to pray; but do you love 
Jesus Christ P* 

" Ay, to be shaure I do, and why shouldn't I do 
that ? I know I do." 

" Why do you love him ?" 

" Because he died to help us do good works, to 
be shaure ; and charity, you know r covers a multi- 
tude of sins. You can't deny that !" 

" Do you expect to be saved by Christ V° 

" Yes, to be shaure I do; by Christ and my own. 
good works together." 

" What makes you think that you shall be 
saved ?" 

" Because I belong to the holy Catholic Church, 
and Christ died for his Church, to help them to be 
charitable." 

" You may belong to any external Church, and 
yet be damned. Forms cannot save you, if they be 
the best forms." 

u Ay, but I know he'll save me, for he gave 
himself for the Catholic Church." 

Here one of the ladies, who was clothed in blacky 
asked, u but do you confess your sins to Christ ?" 

" What is that to you ? Are you my father con- 
fessor ?" 

This was her spirit; but no one ever seemed 
more confident of salvation. While I was praying, 
at William's request, I confessed that our good 
works could not save us, and entreated God that no 
one might be left to trust in outward ceremonies. 
The old woman was so much enraged at this as to 



THE ENRAGED SINNER, 47 

cry out, " Christ died to help us do good works, I 
say ; he died for the holy Catholic Church." After 
this she was silent, and when I had concluded the 
address to the throne of grace, I attempted to show 
her more perfectly the Way of Life. She cover- 
ed her face, however, and would not answer a syl- 
lable ; principally, I suppose, because I said, that 
•the holy Catholic Church includes all who sincerely 
believe on Christ, and none else. 

One thing must be very evident to my readers. 
The same sort of pride and bigotry which infects 
the polite and fashionable unbelievers, has its resi- 
dence in the breasts of the most abandoned wretch- 
es. It seems that even an old hag, with her red 
face, can seriously insist on having a good heart by 
nature. Yes, she can ask, " Why, what evil have 
I done ?" Such is the xvay of an adulterous woman; 
she eateth, andwtpeth her mouth, and saith, I have 
done no wickedness* Pro v. xxx. 20. Another, 
covered with rags, can talk about securing salvation 
by her good works of charity. Let the most be- 
nevolent, who have no better ground of confidence 
towards God than their own beneficence, hear this 
woman talk, and they must be disgusted with that, 
which they allow in themselves. It really requires 
much grace, shed abroad in the heart, to make the 
sinner acknowledge with gratitude, that by grace we 
are saved, through faith ; and that not of ourselves,; 
it is the gift of God* 



45 THE GENUINE CATHOLIC AGAIN. 

February 10th. 

;* With wounded wing-, or bleeding- breast, 
Ah ! where shall either victim rest ? 
Can this with faded pinion soar 
From rose to tulip as before ? 
Or Beauty, blighted in an hour, 
Find joy within her broken bower?' 

Bye. ok. 

• THIS morning I visited the two wards in the 
Hospital which contain lewd men, and left Dod- 
dridge's Rise and Progress in each, which they 
promised to read. They were attentive to all which 
I said, and were pleased to have me call on them. 
Indeed, they had previously intimated to one of the 
nurses, that if I did not visit them, they should ab- 
sent themselves from my public discourses. In 
another ward I visited a sick Italian, and my Ro- 
man Catholic friend j who lifted up his hands and 
eyes to heaven, prayed in loud whispers, and said, 
"O! I need Christ to save me, enough, indeed ! 
that I do : may God be merciful to me, a sinner." 
This man has no objection to the true doctrine of 
confession to Christ, and not to a priest, and of the 
remission of sins through the Redeemer alone. 

In the evening I preached in a ward of lost fe- 
males, in the Almshouse, in which public worship 
has never before been attended ; and then visited 
two other rooms, containing persons of the same sex 
and character. M — B — , of my former Journal, 
still lives, and appears to be a Christian ; but she 
must be contented to remain on the bed of death. 



A FALSE PROFESSOR. 49 

In the same room a young woman lies, who has 
been a public professor of religion, and a prostitute 
at the same time. There I saw another woman of 
about thirty years of age, who was one year in the 
Hospital, and who has been nearly the same time in 
the Almshouse. She is almost gone, and she said 
of two young things, not more than sixteen years of 
age, who sat at the foot of her bed, mending some 
old rags to cover their naked, weather-beaten, dying- 
bosoms, " O that they would take warning from 
me !" The professor of religion, who is a common 
courtesan, seemed quite insensible ; while two or 
three, who had never acted the part of hypocrites, 
were much "affected. 

This proves that an unrenewed, nominal Chris- 
tian, who has had many fits, swoons, and fevers of 
devotion, without any saving knowledge or faith, 
may be worse than many abandoned persons, who 
never made any pretensions to religion. 

"VV — F — declines, but he can nod his meaning, 
just as well as if he spake it. Every thing he re- 
signs into the hands of the Redeemer, whose soul 
touches his. 

Good night to the hundred poor, to whom I have 
preached ; good night to the thirty devotees of Sue- 
coth-Benoth, with whom I have afterwards prayed. 
" Lord, what is man ! — poor — feeble man !" 

Mercy ! mercy ! mercy on us ! Son of David. 



50 PREPARATION FOR DEATH. 

February 14th. 
BESIDES attending Church once, I have preach- 
ed three times to-day, visited and prayed in three 
wards of the Almshouse, and, in short, have gone 
through a scene so similar to that of the last Sabbath, 
that it is useless to enlarge this article. 

v^vvwvw 

February 15th. 

THIS morning I have visited three wards of the 
Hospital, and prayed with three dying men who 
were solicitous of instruction. 
One said, " lam almost as lotv as lean be." 

" Yes, friend," I replied, " and perhaps you will 
die soon." 

" / hope not? he responded, and drew back with 
much horror in his countenance. 

He had not, indeed, calculated on dissolution, and 
it was my unpleasant duty to convince him that 
the cold hand of death was on his heart. Before I 
left him, he appeared to be more reconciled to the 
thought of speedily departing from this life. 

My Roman Catholic friend was truly glad to 
see me, and assured me that death had become 
by far less terrible than it was, before he knew 
the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. He said, " I 
am waiting for the last moment." To see his pale, 
and white, and red, full face, lifted up to heaven, 
with eyes full of tears, would affect any spectator, if 
it would not convince him of the reality of vital re- 
ligion. 



AN OBDURATE OLD MAN. 51 

Another man I approached on the bed of sick- 
ness ; but what shall I say of him ? On the Sabbath 
but one before the last, in this same room, a man 
died, a few moments after I had concluded my ser- 
mon, and two have since resigned their bodies to 
the power of the grave ; but all this is nothing to the 
callous heart. From his furrowed face, and gray 
locks, which hung upon his shoulders, I might have 
expected to hear him say, " I remember the days of 
my youth with sorrow ; when I feel the weakness of 
nay arm. I have beheld the tombs of my friends, 
and now darkness comes on my soul." 

Nothing like this escaped him. _" You are aged, 
Sir, as well as sick," said the writer. 

" Tes, I am a good old dog yet" he said, and turn- 
ed his antiquated frame like Goliah of Gath j " a 
good old dog, that may live many days," 

" I could wish you some higher destiny than that 
of a dog which shall perish." 

" / have no doubt but that every good man wishes 
the same; but my sins are as innumerable as the 
sands on the sea-shore, and I can spend my time 
much better than to be praying for their pardon /" 
This was uttered with such a countenance and air, 
that I confess I knew not what to say to him. He 
appeared to dtfy the living God. A few things, 
nevertheless, I suggested for his consideration, and 
he closed his eyes, telling me that he wished to go 
to sleep. " You must sleep, soon," I said, " the 
sleep of death ; and may God grant that you do not 
awake in hell." 



52 THE WOUNDED SOLDIER'S 

February 16th. 

" Though weary'd virtue oft this soul forsake, 
Heroick ardour burning in his breast 
Resolv'd, unvanquish'd, to sustain the test. 
For great and fair it seem'd, to undertake 
Stern virtue's fiery conflict, great and fair 
The wish to conquer, and the heart to dare' 
How glorious, then, to gain th' unrivall'd prize ! 
But, ah ! when more oppos'd, more strongly rise 
The foe's resistless pow'rs, hope sinks in deep despair." 

Oberon. 

AT the request of Mrs. M^***, who, without 
wealth, does much good, I renewed my visits to the 

sister of Miss H- , the sick soldier's female 

friend, of whom I gave some account in my Jour- 
nal for 1811.^ The aged and withered surviver, 
who was born before her departed sister, still occu- 
pies the same cellar, which, to use her own word';, 
" is homely, but neat ' A neighbour, a poor wo- 
man, who appears to be thoughtful, had come to 
make her a visit, and they two were actually within 
the chimney, over a few sticks which had been 
kindled to boil the pot. 

" You have almost forgotten me, I suppose j but 
you once knew me." 

" 0, it's Mr. Ely ! P.m glad to see you once more. 
Hozv do you do f Tou look healthy ; much more so 
than you did." 

" And you can remember better days, and tell of 
changing scenes.'' 

* See pages 70, 71, 78, 121. 



FEMALE FRIEND* ' 5o 

a Tes, Sir ; I can -well remember when I had the 
honour of dining in company with that reverend 
man of God, Mr, George IVhitefield, and xvith eight 
or ten clergymen at the same time" She then re- 
peated their names to me, which I have forgotten. 

" But it is the Lord, who has brought me low, and 
I must submit. Blessed be his name, for he deals 
mercifully with me." 

" Have you suffered much since I saw you last f 
Or havev.you been provided for V 

" Once last summer I arose on the Sabbath, and 
had nothing but a crust of bread, and one drawing 
of tea in the house, and so I went to the church 
fasting, and there I was fed, so that I zvas complete- 
ly satisfied" 

" Did any one give you temporal food there ?" 

" Oh, no ; but I zvas refreshed xvith the word of 
God, and returned to this place, and was as well 
satisfied, as if the room had been lined with provi- 
sions. His word is meat indeed. But I zvas very 
weak, and xv ent to bed. In the evening I thought 
that I ought to go to my meeting again, and not lie 
down in sadness ; so I went, and the next day I got 
some xvork to supply my craving appetite" 

u I perceive, that the poorest are not the most 
unhappy people in the world, and the Lord appears 
to comfort you in your sorrows. He brings down 
many, and raises others up." 

" I have seen many grow rich ; but I think Amer- 
ica has become great without being thankful. I 
think the people have become proud and high in their 
e2 



54 THE FRIENDSHIP OF THE POOR. 

notions* To be high and rich is the ruling passion 
in our land" 

The writer thought her remarks correct, but was 
grateful for the fact, that many people in the. midst 
of us are exemplary in their piety. 

" True" she said, " and there seems to be more 
than a common stir in this city ; but if all profes- 
sors xvere possessors of religion, this city would 
be a very different place " 

This quaint, but pungent speech, may have been 
original with her, or it may have been quoted from 
the fathers. I did not inquire how she came by it, 
and since she spoke without any apparent disaffec- 
tion with the affluent, yea, without the least mani- 
festation of discontent with her own situation, I 
could not but yield the humiliating assent. The 
present of a copy of my Journal, gave her great de- 
light. 

From this subterranean abode of contentment, I 
went to the house of one of my poor, be widowed 
friends, who is sick from hard work. . She received 
three copies of my, Journal, for which a neighbour. 
is to give her two dollars. It is a great consolation, 
that if I have a few bitter enemies among the rich, 
I have none among the poor, so far as I can learn, 
in any of the places in which I have sojourned. 

My presence was desired in this last place, prin- 
cipally, as a casuist. The widow's eldest son, who 
is a handsome young fellow, and a good mechanic, 
has married a young woman, who has never obtain- 
ed a legal divorce from her former husband* This 



A CASE OF CASUISTRY. 55 

troubles the tender conscience of the mother, and 
has contributed, with the cause above stated, to 
make her sick. With the young man I had a con- 
versation before his marriage, and attempted to dis- 
suade him from forming the connexion which he 
proposed, until the proper civil authority should 
give her permission to enter the matrimonial rela- 
tion again. 

Since many such cases exist in large cities among 
poor people, I will give an account of this young 
couple, and suggest such remarks as were made by 
myself, with the hope of influencing their conduct ; 
that possibly some who may read, may in future un- 
derstand the divine law on this subject. 

The facts are these. Not many years since, a 
young man, of comely person, who was then a clerk 
in a store, courted a worthy young woman, who was 
every way his equal, who had some little property, 
and such charms as do not fall to the lot of half the 
female race. She knew nothing against his charac- 
ter, and because she loved him, she married him» 
Soon after she found, to her inexpressible sorrow, 
that he had lately seduced a young woman, who was 
likely to become a mother by him. This victim 
was taken sick; but the tender wife so far forgave 
her husband's previous misconduct, as to visit and 
assist the dying female 

After the miserable exit of this deluded thing, it 
came to the knowledge of the wife, that her husband 
had induced the person of his criminal pleasures, to 
take some medicine for the destruction, of her un« 



56 MTJRDER AND DIVORCE'. 

born progeny, which proved the death, not only of 
the babe, but also of herself. 

This rendered the young man so obnoxious, that 
he was dismissed from his clerkship, and rejected 
from the society which had previously thought him 
its ornament. To support himself, he enlisted in 
the theatrical band, met with applause, and insisted 
upon making his newly married wife an actress* 
She positively declined, and he as positively assured 
her, that if she would not consent, he would never 
live with her as his wife. Thus, in a few weeks 
after they were married, they were separated, and 
the wife, having abundant evidence of his illicit in- 
tercourse, was very willing to receive a written cer- 
tificate, which he called a divorce, of his having 
abandoned her for ever. 

Many months after this separation, she became 
acquainted with the widow's son. They were long 
pleased with each other, and were disposed to be 
united in wedlock. Indeed they were well calcula- 
ted to be happy in such a union. I advised the 
young man to assist her in getting a legal divorce, 
or else never to marry her. It was my expectation, 
from what he said,- that he would have taken my 
advice. But he was poor ; he found the forms of 
law expensive ; she heard, more than a year ago, 
that her first husband was dead, of which, however, 
she was not certain ; and supposing that a divorce 
could not be granted without the consent of this ab- 
sconding husband, who is probably in Canada^they 



MARRIAGE DEFINED* 57 

were put together by some clerical person of obscure 
fame. 

If the young man had possessed a good education 
and fortune, he might have married into any of the 
most respectable families in this city. To stand 
well at the bank, is every thing with many rich pa- 
rents ; and his fine face, genteel form,, and amiable 
manners, would have captivated the young ladies. 

No wonder, then, that this irregularly divorced 
young woman, and this attractive artisan, should 
have come together. 

To the record of these facts I subjoin the follow- 
ing Remarks. 

Marriage is constituted by a mutual covenant 
between a male and female to become husband and 
wife, and to perform, in relation to each other, the 
various duties of the connubial state, to the utter 
exclusion of all intercourse with others, until the 
union shall be dissolved by the death of one of the 
partners. Whenever a man and woman voluntarily 
enter into this covenant engagement, they are mar- 
ried by their own consent ; and if this covenant can 
be proved by witnesses, the marriage is valid in 
civil law. 

In the patriarchal ages, all marriage connexions 
were formed in this manner. When Isaac took 
Rebecca to be his wife, and she took him to be her 
husband, the bands of wedlock were knotted. It is 
an erroneous notion that any two are married by 
the act of a. third person, instead of their own mutu- 
al covenant.' 



58 THE LAW OF DIVORCE. 

Had civil law interposed no regulations, a simple 
covenant of marriage before witnesses would con- 
stitute a marriage between competent persons, and 
such a marriage as the holy Scriptures pronounce 
honourable. But, to prevent clandestine intercourse,. 
under pretence of a lawful covenant, most civilized 
communities have required, that the parties shall 
appear before some minister of the Gospel, some 
justice of the peace, or some other public officer, and 
in his presence take each other u for better or for 
worse." This is a wise ordinance of nian, to 
which, as to a human law, the members of a com- 
munity are bound to submit. If they covenant be- 
fore other witnesses, who are not appointed to take 
cognizance of such connexions, I do not say that 
they sin against the divine institution of wedlock, 
but they violate the divine injunction, binding on all 
members of a community, to " submit to every law- 
ful ordinance of man, for the Lord's sake." 

The divine law admits of divorce, in only one 
case ; and human law ought never to justify it in 
any other. If partners quarrel, and one departs, the 
other cannot be bound to live with the absentee ; 
but neither, for any cruelty, can be so divorced as to 
have scriptural permission to marry again. The 
language of our Lord on this subject, is definite, and 
ought to give law to every Christian people. 

The ground of divorce, which Christ declares to 
be sufficient, either for the husband or the wife, is 
unchastity. Consult Matthew v. 32. and xix. 9. 



SUFFICIENT CAUSE FOR DIVORCE. 59 

The word, rendered in these passages fornication, 
signifies any actual violation of the nuptial couch. 

According to the civil law of the Jews, some 
public testimony of a divorce was requisite ; and 
most communities since have required some legal 
process before separation can be deemed justifiable. 
It ought not to be left to the discretion of the parties, 
who may be jealous, to decide, whether there is suf- 
ficient cause for the dissolution of their contract, or 
not. They are incompetent judges in their own 
case ; and any who design to be divorced, but will 
not seek to comply with the wholesome regulations 
of civil government, discover a depraved disposi- 
tion, which justly renders their title to a divorce 
suspected. 

It is evident that the young woman whose history 
I have given, had good, scriptural, and legal cause 
for separation from her husband. Both before and 
after marriage to her, he cohabited with others. 
Had she, therefore, been divorced, according to the 
forms of law in the State of New- York, she would 
have been at perfect liberty to have married her 
present partner. 

The circumstances of the case extenuate, but do 
not perfectly justify the parties. Her former hus- 
band had given her a certificate of his renouncing 
her, and it would have taken all the property of the 
present couple, to have gone through the tedious 
forms of lingering justice. 

Still they offended against a good civil institution, 
and I relate the story, that some plain people, who 



60 THE BLIND READ. 

may peruse my Journal, may not be hasty in form- 
ing connexions which are not easily broken up, even 
when there is good reason for disunion. " There- 
fore, take heed to your spirit, and let none deal 
treacherously with the wife of his youth. For the 
Lord, the God of Israel, saith, that he hateth putting 
away : for one covereth violence xuith his garment, 
saith the Lord of hosts ; therefore, take heed to 
your spirit, that ye deal not treacherously" Mal- 
achi ii. 15. 

vwwvwv 

February 17 th. 

THREE ladies accompanied me this morning to 
the Almshouse, who presented George with some 
apparel for the Sabbath, from the Dorcas Society. 
He was requested to sing. 

" I have a cold," he said, not because he had 
learned to make such excuses from the fashionable, 
" but I will try j" and the ladies were charmed with 
his performance. 

We saw the blind boy, W — R— . He stood by 
a window, with the bible in his hand, just like one 
who could see, and was reading to himself some 
portion, which I presume had lately been read to 
him. 

" -Come, William, read a chapter to these ladies." 
After a little hesitation, he said, " If you zvill turn 
me to the eighth chapter of Matthew, I will" I 
found the place for hirn, he took the book, and when 
one who could see would have turned the leaf over, 



THE NATURALLY GOOD HEART. 61 

he turned it, and read the chapter as fluently as any 
boy of his age could have done. He can tell all his 
acquaintance by the sound of the voice, as easily as 
others can by sight j and so soon as he heard me 
enter the room, he apologized for not repeating a 
hymn to me on the evening of the last Sabbath. It 
was an uncommon thing for him to fail, but I re- 
member now that he was not then present. 

We visited, and prayed with, many, and particu- 
larly with those whom I saw on the evenings of the 
7th and of the 10th of the present month. 

" Are you now convinced,*' I asked one, " that 
you have a bad heart ?" It was the same old pai> 
der of whom I have previously written. 

" No, Tarn not* Tou wish to mock' me* I am no 
worse than others ; and P 11 not confess, for any man, 
that I have a bad heart ; for I always wish to re- 
lieve those that I see afflicted** 

" I do not say that you are worse than others \ 
but these three ladies have, by nature, very wicked 
hearts." 

" How do you know P Did they ever confess that 
to you V*. 

The visitors then confessed themselves sinners, 
and naturally wicked in heart ; but the old, self- 
righteous creature, insisted upon it, that " no one 
was the better for going to church, and no priests 
should ever make up a mess of stuff* to convince her 
that her heart was wicked, when she knew better." 

u Why," said the nurse of the room, u they call 
me a Deist in this house; but I am riot, for I was 
w 



62 THE GRATEFUL PENITENT. 

bred up to the Church of England, and I'll confess 
that I sin more or less every day." So much as this 
the poor, blinded wretch would not acknowledge, 
and I am confident that no sober, moral, and exem- 
plary person, who is without evangelical faith and 
repentance, was ever more confident of the native 
goodness of his heart. 

M — B — said she had some hope of becoming a 
hale woman yet ; u and 0, if I do, lam so grateful 
to you, that I wouldcome and be your servant, all 
your days" It was in vain to protest that I had 
merited nothing, and desired nothing but her salva- 
tion. " I am a poor sinner, Mary, and deserve hell 
as well as yourself." " It is,' 9 she said, " a great 
blessing to you if you feel that ; but I hope God will 
reward you" 

While I was conversing with another dying fe- 
male, the woman's countenance who was stretched 
on the next bed, became red as scarlet, and she 
burst into tears. She covered her face with her 
clothes, when I turned to her, but she sobbed aloud. 

The girl who has made a profession of religion, 
is beautiful, and excited much emotion in the minds 
of my companions. She was exhorted to seek a 
better religion than that which she had supposed 
herself to possess. Her passions had been moved, 
at a Methodist church, and she was told that she 
was converted, without having any scriptural know- 
ledge of the way of salvation, or evidence that she 
had passed from death to life. When I argued 
from what her past prospects must have been, she 



NERVOUS AFFECTIONS. 63 

appeared to feel a little ; but no colour came over 
her interesting face,, no tears bedewed her fine eyes. 

Poor, miserable creature, man ! 

This evening I went to the Almshouse to preach, 
very reluctantly, and quite indisposed, but I went to 
a room which has not been the place of public wor- 
ship before. It was crowded ; and at the door I 
was requested particularly to pray for a young 
woman, who would lie on the right of my table. 
She has been afflicted, for a long time, with nervous 
affections. Her appearance was prepossessing; but 
in the midst of the first singing she swooned. Four 
or five old nurses were much engaged to restore 
her, for they u sot great store by the poor, nice gal?"* 
Their anxiety for her, and her diligent attention to 
hear, made me breathe out the Gospel, as I think of 
it in the closet, with all plainness and simplicity. 
Before the sermon was concluded, she went into 
hysterical fits, which lasted for some time ; but so 
soon as the convulsions were over, she gave renew- 
ed attention. 

On the whole, I am thankful that I went ; but the 
air of the room was horrible, and I seem to feel the 
down of it fuzz in my throat, while I write. How 
desirable will be the chapel in the new Almshouse, 
for my successor ! But still, he must it'fnerate 
through the sick rooms. 

This fainting girl told me, that she could under- 
stand me, most of the time ; and a poor lady by her 
side, whom I found to be her mother, with tears re- 
quested me to call on her again. 



64 FASHIONABLE VICE. 

Good night to their afflictions ! and, oh! that I 
could say, " good night to all my sorrows." 



w-vvvvw* 



February 19 th. 

IN the Almshouse I called on the young woman 
of nervous affections. She was sitting up in her 
bed, and had a fine camel's hair shawl, with a small 
figure, about her neck. From this circumstance, 
one may easily judge what has been her past course 
of conduct j for if a person comes into the abodes 
of disease and death with such fragments of gentili- 
ty about her neck, she may be set down in the calen- 
dar " of those who are not so good as they should 
be ;" or of those who (to use the serious expression 
of a black man, who was himself in that predica- 
ment) are afflicted with " the gentleman's com- 
plaint." Still, in spite of the shawl, and a muslin 
night cap, and a fine cravat about her neck, I pitied 
her. Her face was already highly coloured with a 
fever, but when I began to speak of repentance for 
all past sin, it assumed a deeper hue. 

In the Hospital, six wards this afternoon received 
me, as a messenger of my Master. The man whom. 
I saw on the 15th instant, who could not think he 
must die, is gone to the eternal world. 

The man who calls himself " an old dog," was 
asleep, and perhaps will soon be drowned, with the 
dropsy, to awake no more, until in hell he shell lift 
up his eyes, being in torment. One with whom I 
then conversed and prayed, has died before his eyes, 
and I saw him dissected, to promote the healing art*. 



THE SPOTTED FEVER. 65 

I found a young man, H — H — , of fine form and 
countenance, sick with u the spotted fever," who 
confessed, with deep emotion, that he was not pre- 
pared to die. He must be some young man of 
more than common parts, for every article of his 
dress, and every word of his language, indicates 
him to be of a respectable family and education. 

With a good woman, who knows that she must 
soon die, but who is unwilling to die in the Hospi- 
tal, I laboured, and prayed, that she might learn to 
depart from any place which God shall deem expe- 
dient ; and, until the time of her release, remain 
contented. It is easy to teach the duty of content- 
ment to the affluent, but to the poor — " who xvants 
to die in the Hospital f* 9 

" Still, still, good woman, it is as near heaven as 
yonder palace ; and pray, where could you, who are 
without a home, die so well I" 

" I expect that I shall be saved" said a sick black 
woman, " if I put all my trust in Jesus Christy and 
serve him in spirit and in truth" 

A very aged Dutch woman said to me, " I no 
right to complain met his dealings met me, for I 
a great sinner ; but I hope he give me grace to zvait 
met patience, till he please to come to me" 

" Gould you hear the Gospel when I preached 
here last V* 

" yes, to my great joy ; for what else can a sin- 
ner do P I nothing else to satisfy me met hope" 



F3 



/ 



66 THE WAGES 0? SIN. 



February 20th. 

" Proud minds and guilty, whom their crimes oppress* .. 
Fly to new crimes for comfort and redress." 

Crabbe. 

TO-DAY an excellent seaman, who held some 
office on board the frigate " United States" and who, 
was much esteemed for his bravery by the gallant 
commodore Decatur, was brought into the Hospi-? 
tal with his throat cut, to the very bone of his neck. 
The young man had been drinking to excess, and 
became crazy*. When the fumes of the liquor sub- 
sided, a dejection of spirits, which is very common, 
ensued, and in this situation, while at a house of ill- 
fame, he applied the instrument of death to his own 
throat. A messmate found him sitting up in his 
bed,. and the blood becoming cold. on the floor ; but, 
by stretching his neck back, when he performed the 
horrid deed, the jugular veins were preserved en- 
tire, so that his life was preserved until this even- 
ing. He could assign no reason for this transaction j 
and the only reason probably was, that intemper- 
ance and lust produced the madness of melancholy,, 

vmivvwiw 

February 21st,, 
AFTER discoursing to a full room m ths Hos- 
pital, this morning, I went to pray with my Catho- 
lic friend, and the young man sick of the spotted Js^ 
ver. The former can utter very appropriate senti- 
ments, with a smile of hope on his dying facej and; 



THE PIOUS BLIND MAN* 6Jf 

the latter wishes to live, that he may be prepared 
for death. It is my earnest prayer that he may, to 
know Jesus Christ in spirit, and in power. 

In the evening Mr. B— i and Mr. F -r y 

with several ladies, attended public worship in the 
Almshouse. After the usual services, these gen- 
tlemen offered prayers in different rooms, which we 
visited, and the ladies distributed some fruits, and 
other refreshments, to some of the most afflicted 
females. 

Poor W — F — • seemed a little deranged, through 
extreme debility, and was very urgent, like a man 
half-starved, in begging that some little niceties 
might be sent to him. He said that he had once 
been accustomed to comforts, and he now rejected 
from his stomach almost every thing. He would 
not have been in want, I think, had not his wife, who 
Is a 'coarse, unfeeling woman, appropriated some of 
the presents of my female friends to her own use, 
The blind man gave abundant evidence, that ia 
some sicknesses, that, delicate organ, the stomach, 
may reject brown bread and molasses, while the 
hunger of the sufferer may engross all his thoughts, 
and almost incapacitate him for serious reflection. ■ 

The aged Dutch woman talked much "met her 
wisitors," to their great satisfaction; and the ner- 
vous girl appeared sad and.humble 

With some young persons who were not too far 
gbne to blush, I held a serious discourse, when a 
courtesan, of about thirty years, a Scotch-Irish 
iY0iuan ? who is a little deranged in mmd 3 stretched 



68 THE ORTHODOX SINNER* 

forth her hand to me, which I declined taking, lest 
she should hold me too fast. But, reader, mark 
what force education has, even on a polluted mind, 
partially insane. 

" I believe, Sir,'' she said, " that we are of the 
same sentiment." This she uttered, when I was at- 
tempting to convince a woman that she is a sinner, 
who would not acknowledge it. 

" Come a little nearer to me," she continued, " I 
do not like to talk loud." 

In something of an animated tone, I asked, " Are 
you not a sinner ?" 

" Hush I hush I how can I deny that f Why do 
you ask me such a question f I was bred up in Ire- 
land by the Rev, Mr. . Perhaps you might 

know him. He was of the same sentiment with Dr. 
M 1 Leod of this city ; and I think you are soond 
too, mon ; and therefore I zvish to have you talk to 
me* Tve heard you preach twa sermons since I 
have been in this house" 

She then stated, very accurately, the subjects on 
which she had heard me discourse, and the texts of 
Scripture on which my sermons were founded. 

" When I came in here, because I had been a little 
without reason, once, and my friends could not pay 
for my board in the Hospital, I thought I might not 
hear any preaching, because I could not know that it 
would be soond, but I want to hear you again." 

" You ought to believe the truth, when you hear- 
it, whoever may be the preacher ; but your ortho- 



THE FORCE OF EDUCATION. 69 

doxy will not save you. Do you believe and feel 
what you heard I Did it convince you of sin ?" 

" Why, as I xvas saying, I thought I might not 
hear you ; but you are soond in the faith, and I want 
to hear you again**'' 

Here Mr. F r asked her a practical question-, 

and, as he is a Scotchman, I thought he might-be 
the best soldier to attack a woman entrenched be- 
hind the rampart of orthodoxy, which induced me 
to turn to others. She did not know, however, that 
he was soond too, although connected with the Re- 
formed Dutch Church, instead of the Reform- 
ed Presbyterian, and for this reason, probably, 
declined all further conversation. 

A little bigotry and orthodoxy having been deeply 
impressed in youth, are thus retained, even in a state 
of immorality and derangement. Why should she 
have been afraid to hear one, who was not of the 
church in which she was educated ? Why should 
she have felt as if she was doing evil, while she was 
listening to me, until, from my doctrine, she thought 
that I was of the genuine Scotch Church ? I love 
many of the Scotch for their intellect, and evangeli- 
cal purity of doctrine and discipline ; but if bigotry 
must exist, I am willing that it should be in the 
minds of the insane, rather than in the brethren 
whom I fondly cherish, as the active and intelligent 
disciples of Jesus. 

A little girl repeated a hymn. W — R- — did 
the same, and read to us the greater part of a long 
chapter in Matthew's Gospel, 



70 MINISTERIAL ENCOURAGEMENT. 

For my consolation, I can remember, that the 
Lord was visibly present with us this evening, and 
that some of his people were refreshed. Mrs. 
M****- also informs me, that a lady who came 
with her a few evenings since, to hear me preach to 
the poor, was brought into a state of very deep con- 
viction and self-abhorrence, by that sermon^ which 
was principally directed to persons widely different 
from herself in education and temporal circumstan- 
ces. The Gospel is, indeed, but one ; yet the man- 
ner of exhibiting it is various : and if I have any 
talent, it consists in the power of making the princi- 
pal doctrines of grace intelligible to the understand- 
ing of the meanest person. Yet God can sanctify 
that manner of promulging the Gospel, whLh seems 
best calculated to edify the poor, to the minds of the 
rich and the refined. The plain truth, and not any 
refinement of style, (although I abhor bad taste and 
bad grammar, in any sermon,) is the power of God 
unto salvation. 

February 23d, 

IN all my past visitations to the Hospital, I have 
met with no scenes which have exceeded in solem- 
nity those of this morning. My Romish friend, 
H — O'N— -, was sitting up on his bed, with a cheer* 
ful countenance, and said, u Although I don't expect 
to live long, yet I thank God that he spares me, and 
I feel quite happy." He was eating a piece of dried 
beef,, with, a cracker, and added, u I am thankful. 



AN AWFUL DEATH. ft 

that for a little while I am so much better than I 
was, and that I have a relish for this food." 

It is really a pleasure to visit such a dying man, 
particularly because all his bigotry is gone, no more, 
I trust, to return. 

Of the young man's life, who is sick in the same 
room, with the spotted fever, there is some hope ; 
but in two other wards, I visited four who were 
very low, indeed, with the same complaint. One of 
them, a sailor, when I entered his room, was sitting 
up, with one foot off his bed. The cold dews of 
death were trickling down from his nose and hair, 
but I did not think his dissolution to be immediate- 
ly at hand. A conversation, therefore, ensued, with 
the person who calls himself a u good old dog" of a 
man, and who was now seated by the stove. 

" You seem a little better, Sir, than when I saw 
you last ; but the physicians tell me that you have 
the dropsy. Your old age, if you had no disease, 
should forbid you to expect the long continuance of 
life." 

" Tes, Sir, lam old, but I hope to live many years 
yet* Still I know that the period of life must come, 
and that -we must all pay the debt to nature" 

" Do you think yourself prepared for death ?" 

u That* s not a fair question." 

" Far be it from me to treat you with incivility ; 
but I think it a very fair, and important question* I 
would not, however, urge conversation." 

" Nor would I be uncivil in declining it. There 
is a time and manner which is not disagreeable* 



72 THE OBDURATE OLD MAN. 

and frequently I have spent hours in conversation 
-with ministers, when it amused me ; and there are 
times when it would be a perfect hell to spend an 
hour in such company" 

** How Important, then, is it for your own happi- 
ness, that you should be prepared to spend an eter- 
nity in holy society ! If the society of the good tor- 
ments you now, and you die in this state, what must 
be your condition through eternity ?" 

" God will take care of that matter* All I have 
to do in this world is to act according to the dictates 
of nature. It will be of no use for me to trouble my- 
self about my destiny, which is in his hands." 

" Does not your reason teach you, that if there is 
a God, you ought to seek his favour ? Are you not 
convinced, that if God governs, you are still free, 
and accountable ? If you are a sinner, does not rea- 
son teach you, that you ought to repent ?" 

" I will tell you what I think" said he, and pull- 
ed off his woollen cap, to scratch his gray head ; 
" / will tell you my opinion. A young rake in 
Philadelphia, of my acquaintance, by the name of 
Bell, zuas met by a very pious Quaker. Bell had 
been religiously educated, and zuas a fellow of fine 
parts, but lived a very licentious life. The Quaker 
reproved him with a good deal of asperity, when he 
should have remembered that the vilest dog has some 
delicacy of feelings and will not be benefitted by 
rough severity. He reproached him for hzs immoral 
life, and was very urgent to proselyte him. Bell 
was rude in return, and asked him, S Pray, friend, 



'FATALISM. 73 

Vhat makes you a good man, while I am a bad man, 
when my understanding and education in religious 
things have been equal to yours?' The Quaker an- 
szvered, c the grace of God.' ' Well, then," 5 replied 
Bell, c ft is no thanks to you, nor to the devil, that 
you are not as wicked as I am ; for one who is con- 
strained by the grace of God, cannot help being 
holy.' Now lam of BeWs opinion ; for I have at- 
tempted to pray, when I was upon my bed, many a 
time, and I never could make my heart any better. 
All my prayers are like pouring water upon a 
droxvned rat, as the saying is»^ 

" Have you no distress on account of your situa- 
tion ? Are you willing to live and die, in such ob- 
duracy ?" 

" u When a man died here vgain, this morning, I 
wanted to feel, but my heart was as hard as a rockP 

" Remember, that you must soon enter upon a 
state of perfect liappiness or misery.*' 

" Immediately after I die, do you think P I cannot 
believe it ; for God made man after Tiis own image, 
his noblest work, and God will not suffer him to be 
eternally marred. It is contrary to reason to think, 
that God should lose his labour, in creating us for his 
glory." 

" He may be glorified in our condemnation. 
But, tell me, what reason have you to think that alL 
will be saved ? Do you believe the Bible ?" 

44 I believe some part of it, because it is agree- 
able to me, a fid we are apt to believe what we wish ; 
but I do not believe one word about the unquenchable 



74 AN AWFUL DEATH. 

jire, the never-dying worm, and the eternity of hell 
torments." 

" Have you not the same reason for believing 
one part of the Bible as the other j and does not 
common sense teach you, that since the evidence is 
the same for the whole, as for any part, you ought 
to reject the whole, or none ?" 

Here I perceived, that if ever I had the opportu- 
nity of speaking to the youth, who first attracted my 
attention on entering the room, it must be immedi- 
ately. He had just reclined for the last time. The 
last rays of life were retreating. It was twilight ; 
but a few moments before the darkness of death. 

" You are very sick, young man." 

He gasped, " Yes" 

" You are even dying, and do you know that you 
are a sinner ?" 

« 2W 

" Know, also, that there is a Saviour for sinners, 
who died for them. To him you should pray, for 
he is able and willing to save a dying rebel.'* 

" Give me your hand" 

I complied ; his red cap and handkerchief fell 
from it, to be resumed no more. 

" Pull it a little" he said, and was assisted in 
turning himself. He made a motion for some 
drink, and after a few words of instruction were 
added, the question was asked, " Shall I pray with 
you, in your last moments I" He could not answer. 
I prayed, however, and in a few moments after I 
had concluded, the nurse closed his eyes. 



SUPERSTITION. 75 

This sailor was yesterday absolved by his priest, 
from ail his sins ; but last night spent much of his 
time in cursing the winds, which disturbed him, and 
kept his nurse awake by horrid oaths. Not half an 
hour before he expired, he used his brief and dying 
respiration, to imprecate curses. He had an Amer- 
ican protection, and was received at the Hospital as 
a native of New-Jersey. He pretended to describe 
his birth-place, and his friends ; but a letter was 
found at his decease, which proved him to have 
been discharged from an English frigate on account 
of his declining health. 

How melancholy is the thought, that thousands 
perish without instruction, and think that the burn- 
ing of a few candles around their couch, a little oil 
applied to their bodies, and a wafer bound to the feet, 
can save an impenitent swearer from hell ! This I 
acknowledge, however, that I have found some, 
much attached to the sign of the cross, who could be 
more easily taught, when they consented ta listen, 
the true doctrine of propitiation, than those who 
have confided in their own good works, never per- 
formed, for justification, The former have been in 
the habit of thinking, that Christ holds some con- 
spicuous place in religion, and is the sole foundation 
of it; while the latter have hardly imagined that 
Christ is essential to the Gospel of pardon. The ' 
Papist is nearer heaven than any Socinian. 

A wake, I understand, is to be kept this even- 
ing, over the dead body. Some of my readers may 
not understand the nature of this ceremony. I will 



/*> A- WAKE. 

explain it. When the body might remain in the 
" dead house" of the Hospital, or might be buried 
to-day as well as to-morrow, it is taken to the house 
of some friend, and kept during the night in a large 
company of drinking friends, who,, between exami- 
nation of the corse, and the accumulation of glasses, 
usually become very merry., They pray also,, or 
pretend to pray, for the deliverance of the soul of 
the deceased, from purgatory j and if they find that 
the body has undergone surgical examination after 
death, they are outrageous against that Institution 
which cures multitudes of their countrymen, because 
they imagine that every drop of blood, or piece of 
flesh, lost after the extinction of the animal life, will, 
detain the soul a definite time longer in the papal 
limbo.. Such doctrines, I should hope, were not in- 
digenous plants of. this land of religious liberty, but 
imported from the dark regions of the old world*. 
Let us not deride, but pity the deluded, and pray 
that the Sun of Righteousness may chase away that 
fog and smoke, which ascended from Tophet some 
ages since, and covered the nations with thick dark- 
ness. O may the glory of God shine from the face 
of Jesus Christ^into every benighted sinner, to illu-. 
minute his understandings and to warm his heart ! 

Another dying man, who thankfully listened to 
the counsels of peace, was a spectator of the whole. 
The " old dog" of a Universalist, as he calls him- 
self, stood also by the bed, and seemed as unmoved 
as thrice.-harden.ed. steel, ;, 



AN OLD CAPTAIN. 77 

Another man, in another room, sick with the 
same u spotted fever," wept abundantly, and said, 
" I hope God will yet stretch out his arm to- help me* 
It is strong." 

He confessed that he had been a great sinner ; 
had offended against a strict, Presbyterian educa- 
tion, and was afraid that he should too easily think 
well of his situation. When I had prayed, he rais- 
ed his head from the bed, with great effort, to bow 
to me, and fell back, overwhelmed, apparently, with 
contrition. 

An old captain in the late American revolution, 
attracted my attention, and said, "I can Istill read 
the bible, and that is all my consolation ;" but, alas ! 
the fever of rum and brandy still boils in his veins* 
In this same room, not long since, died a person of 
genteel manners, as well as figure, who was once af- 
fluent, and who always went by the title of Count. 
I was astonished to find one there, in a fine linen 
shirt, the relick of his former estate ; and I learned 
that, until very lately, he had frequented the first 
companies of gay people, both in Europe and Amer- 
ica, Without any affectation of manner, he said to 
me, " to be prepared for death. Sir, is the summum 
bonum." 

In the same ward I have also frequently visited 
one, who was at first a Congregational minister, then 
a Presbyterian pastor, and finally a physician. He 
was reduced in circumstances, and the apoplexy 
cut off his speech. Still he could walk about. One 
day finding him very uneasy, I preached Christ to 
G2 






78 A POOR CLERGYMAN. 

him, as I do to the most ignorant. It quieted him. 
He sat down, pressed my hand, and cried like a 
child. Often after this, in the Hospital, where 
other ministers of the Gospel may yet be found,* I 
administered to him in things pertaining to God and 
his soul. Counts and clergymen, lawyers, physi- 
cians, sailors, and harlots, meet here, as the fabte 
states them to have done, in the ferry-house at the 
river Styx. 

The body of the sailor who cut his throat, was 
yesterday called for by his companions, who u damn- 
ed him for dying like a fool, and not living to die- 
like a man-, in some engagement." The matron re- 
proved them for their profane talk ; and one of them 
cried, " Be still, boys, you must not swear here, for- 
I believe they are all Methodists !" This was a 
very honourable testimony to this denomination of. 

* On September 9th, 1815, the Rev. Robert Lotkia^-. 
who died in the 85th year of his age, was buried from the 
Almshouse in the city of Philadelphia. He was formerly a 
Presbyterian minister, of the established Church in Scotland, 
and statedly preached in Glasgow, with almost universal ap- 
plause. He was a candidate for the place occupied by Mr. 
Balfour. But, alas! this popular preacher, having lived 
about thirty years unnoticed, and unknown, except to a few 
Free-masons, expired in the house of public charity. Yet he - 
was not, so far as we can learn, a heretic, nor immoral. We 
can only say, it was the will of God, that the exaltation and 
the humiliation which he experienced, should remind those 
who live in the applause and. friendship of their people, that 
they too, should thiey not hear the same people cry, " cructfy 
them !" may be poor, and forsaken, and forgotten, in the day 
of- death, by every being but the covenant-keeping Jekovae=. 



THE PIOUS GERMAN. 5*$ 

Christians. Perhaps the sailors had not been ac- 
customed to hear familiar reproofs from the pious^ 
who too often think they would be in vain, 

February 24th. 

ONE who was the spectator of death yesterday^ 
with whom I then conversed, and whom I designed 
to have seen to-day, was carried out in his coffin, 
while I was- present in the Hospital, so that three 
patients have died in one ward, within twenty-four 
hours. In the same ward I paid some attention 
this afternoon to a German, who will probably fol- 
low his companion soon. He said that he was a a 
high sinner," and added, from ignorance, that he 
had always trusted in the Lord Jesus Christ. He 
intended, that he had always been taught the name 
of Jesus, and the nature of his mission. The Ger- 
man Bible was open on his pillow, and seemed to ; 
be the object of much affection. " Me, hope? he 
said, " the Lord J esus pray for me, and pardon me" 

" I hope he will," I said, " and prepare you for 
death." 

" Hohl me ready to meet met death, for He 
stretch out his strong arm to me. Ton know, de mam 
run away from he's fader. He say-, when he come 
to his self, what a fool J He's fader have many ser- 
vants, and no want himj but he say, make me one of, 
de lowest of dem" 

" Yes, the vilest prodigal may return, and God is 
willing to receive him. You must go to your hea- ~ 
venly Father in the character of a miserable prodi- 



30 TRUST" IN ORDINANCES. 

gal, and ask of him acceptance, that he may be glo- 
rified in pardoning great iniquity." 

The old captain, of whom I wrote yesterday, has 
a soldier's face, but he comforts himself with the 
assurance, which he made to me, that he had al- 
ways BEEN A STRICT OBSERVER OF RELIGIOUS- 
ORDINANCES. It was my labour to attempt to show 
him the proper use of ordinances. They are means 
of good, but no suitable object of a sinner's confi- 
dence ; no reason for his justification. 

The Presbyterian youth, who desired help from 
the strong arm of the Lord, is yet alive, and as ten- 
der as he was yesterday. His pocket Bible was 
open before his weeping eyes. After some reli- 
gious discourse, I asked if he felt anxious about his 
friends. This touched a tender spot. He did, he 
said, " but they are better prepared for death than I 
am." 

" Perhaps, then, your present religious anxiety is 
sent by God in answer to the prayers of pious pa- 
rents and friends. 5 ' 

This was too much for him, and I desisted for a 
time ; but afterwards called his attention to the his- 
tory of the prodigal's return. The young man has 
probably absconded from his friends, has been cap-^ 
tured, and then shipwrecked. Last of all, this ma- 
lignant spotted fever has seized him, but— — 

« All's for the best ! ,? 

Yesterday and to-day, I have watched for an op- 
portunity to speak to a young. man, who must die 
soon with. the consumption $ but he continued in too 



NOTHING NEW. 8t 

deep a sleep to regard my voice. I fear he will 
sleep the sleep of death before he thinks of danger. 

In the ward of decent females I prayed, and one^ 
who was discontented when I saw her last, said, that 
she could now submit herself entirely to the Lord's 
hands, for life and for death. 

Reader, are you not fatigued with going over the 
same ground repeatedly ? If you are not, I am 
weary with leading you, for thus I twice visit the 
dying and the dead. But if you may learn to die>. 
I will proceed. 

Know, then, that this evening I preached in the 
Almshouse, in a ward which has not been previous- 
ly visited by the public ministration of the word. 
It contained, in connexion with the adjoining ward, 
which was open, that the sick might hear, no less 
than thirty bed-rid women of ill fame : so that I 
may consider myself as having erected the standard 
of the Gospel behind the scenes in, the theatre of 
that wretched goddess, Venus. I have seen her 
patch-work faces, and all the art which she uses to* 
gild the foulest debauchery with the tinsel of senti- 
ment. The room was. full,. almost to suffocation, 
but after I became alive to my subject, nothing im- 
peded me but the faint cries of a sick babe, at a 
young female's breast, and the dying groans of an 
expiring prostitute. 

A woman by the name of Donally, in another 
ward, was visited. She has been in the Almshouse, 
perfectly blind, about five years. For four or five 
months she has been sick, and although confined to 



82 BLIND DONALLY. 

the bed, yet patient. I have visited her often, with- 
out hearing a complaint. All she desires is the fa- 
vour of God, and to night she prayed, repeatedly 
saying, a Lord, have mercy on my soul ; hear me ; 
accept me, sanctify me, give me patience, and save 
me, for Christ's sake." It is better to be in this 
"woman's condition, than to sway the sceptre of the 
ungodly over the prostrate world. "Let me die her 
death, and let my last end be like hers, if it should 
even be in the Almshouse. 

" But is there any hope of the wretched — ?" 
Some of them are very young ; many of them, 
before they entered their present abode, never had 
a kind invitation to return ; and several, who never 
will be sound in body, appear to be renovated in 
soul. But if they all perish, let them not sink into 
perdition without hearing the sound of the Gospel. 
I can only say, that most of them were attentive, to- 
night; many were very solemn, and some wept. 
Most of them have been miserably seduced, and 
forsaken. 

" Fred'rick, first cool* became ere long severe, 
Then curs'd his pride, and then her flowing tear, 
Then with a look would sometimes pass her door, 
Then rarely came, and finally, no more." 

William and Ellen. 

vwwvwv 

February 26th» 
THIS afternoon I have visited two families of 
poor people, and three wards in the Hospital. The 
sleeping youth,whom I sought opportunity to ad- 



THE PIOUS GERMAN. -8B 

dress, will open his eyes no more until the resur- 
rection. Two young men, who were very sick, are 
recovering. One was reading the Bible, and the 
other, H — H — , has made " a strong resolution 
never to turn again to his sins." The writer ex- 
horted him to repose confidence in the Lord Jesus, 
and not in his own purposes ; but he said, " I feel 
confident that I shall never live such a wicked life 
in future, as 1 have done." It is better to 
PRAY than to PROMISE. 

The German said to me, " It make no tifference 
to me, if he make me life, or he make me tie* Me 
looks to de plessed Lord Jesus Christ, He suffer 
more as all de world. He^s sweat trop blood to de 
ground" 

" Yes, his sweat zvas as it were great drops of 
blood: and none of his sufferings were for himself." 

" Tat ish what I would say. He no suffer for 
he's own life. My plessed Lord not afraid for he's 
self: he suffer for de sinner. Does'n't you preach 
in the church in f n 

" No, I preach in the German Calvinist Church, 
and in the Almshouse." 

" Welly it's no tifference, for there is one Lord 
Jesus Christy and I hope to come up to see him 
soon" 

In this frame of mind it is probable that he will 
soon die. Perhaps I may see him in the morning* 
Another man is taken, with the same spotted fever, 
Who makes the eighth patient that has been attacked 
in the same ward, within a few days 



64 A GRATEFUL TRIBUTE. 

The following lines were presented to me in one 
of the abodes of the poor. They were written by a 
young woman, whose opportunities for acquiring 
knowledge have been few^ Neither the imperfec- 
tion of the measure, nor the want of rhyme in a few 
cases, nor the use of the little i in writing, could ren- 
der the performance unacceptable. I publish them 
in honour of the writer. 

fe< Lines occasioned i>y reading Ely's Journal.* 

" Who can forbear to drop a tear 
On scenes of woe recorded here 1 — 
The Maniac's fancies, strangely wild ; 
The Orphan's cry, misfortune's child $ 
The Widow's tears ; the wretch's woe, 
Bereft of every joy below, 
Save that which springs from death's release. 
The soul then wash'd and sav'd by grace, 
Ascends to dwell before the throne, 
And shouts, ' Oh, what hath Jesus done !' 

Here sinners, brought by sovereign grace, 
The glorious Gospel to embrace, 
JResign with confidence their mortal breath, 
And rise superior to the fears of death* 

Here Infidelity's deluded prey, 
Drawn from Religion's arms away, 
Usurps a power exclusively God's own, 
And rashly ventures on a world unknown: 

* T%e First Journal, for 181-1 



ANIMATING PROSPECTS. 85 

Betrayed youth laments her follies past, 
Her fame and prospects levelled with the dust i 
With penitential tears her guilt she mourns, 
Or to the arms of Infamy returns. 

Proud human Nature ! art thou sunk so low t 
Where is thy boasted pride, thy glory, now ? 
Good Heavens, avert that fate from those i love. 
And guard them by thy influence from above* 

Go on, blest Herald of the Cross ! proclaim 
To dying sinners the sweet Saviour's name : 
A crown of life, the heavenly prize, 
Ere long shall greet your ardent eyes, 
While angels bid you welcome home, 
To the great supper of the Lamb." 

May God animate me to the performance of du- 
ty, by the kind approbation of those, who are none 
of the mighty of this world \ 



iwvvww^ 



February 27th, 

THE German, whom the physicians thought 
would die last night, smiled to see me early this 
morning, and appears happy in the faith of God his 
Saviour. Last night he expected to die, but ex- 
pressed to all around him, great affection for the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and ardent gratitude to God. 
He praised his Redeemer in audible words, and at- 
tempted to do it in a midnight song. The nurse 

H 



86 THE POOR CLERGYMAN. 

found a remarkable contrast between this believer, 
and the sailor who spent his last night in cursing the 
winds, which whistled around the chamber of death. 
None of these things, however, seem to move the 
obdurate Universalist. He treats me with respect, 
but he appears to feel like a devil. In coming out 
of the gate, J met the Presbyterian clergyman, a pa- 
tient, going in. -He saunters about, half bereft of 
reason, and is incapable of speaking in any tone 
much louder than that of a whisper. A little con- 
versation ensued, and he was unwilling to part with 
me ; but his ghastly eyes, his decent garments, still 
of clerical fashion, his long and hoary beard, hia 
wasted face, and trembling form, made his presence 
sickening to my soul. Often I think, but more se- 
riously when I see this Dr. B , that I too may 

be a palsied old man, and die in some Hospital. 

Well, if I do, let Jesus still be my just God and 
Saviour ! 

vwvwvw 

February 28th» 

WE were all erroneous in our opinion yesterday, 
that the German would live. This morning he was 
alive, but it seems certain that he cannot continue. 
After sermon I took three young gentlemen, who 
were present, to see a believer triumph over the 
king of terrors. I asked him, " What is your hope 
now ?" 

He answered, with firmness, " The Lord Jesus 
GhrisU' 9 



RESIGNATION. 87 

" Are you still willing to depart IV 

He bowed his head. 

u Would you not prefer to live V 

He shook his head, and gasping, said, f I wish I 
was gone" 

We prayed with him for the last time, and bade 
him adieu, for ever. He said, a for twelve hour— 
I — ," but could not proceed for want of breath. 
He took his hand out of bed, however, lifted it up, 
as one in supplication, and bowed his head. A 
young man, I believe his son, we left with him, 
reading the German Bible to his expiring father. 

This evening four rooms in the Almshouse were 
visited, besides the one in which I preached, and in 
two of them prayers were offered by my Christian 
friends, Mr. Bleeker, and Mr. John Steel. The 
latter gentleman heard the blind W— - R— read a 
part of a chapter, and attended to several children^ 
who repeated hymns, and were well compensated by 
his liberality. 

I went to the bed of W— - F-— j but he was gone, 
and blessed be the Lord who took him away. Now 
his eyes, which were sealed in natural blindness for 
twenty-seven years, through the excess oflust, will 
no more prevent the light from shining into his soul. 
There is good reason to believe, that he went from 
the cellar of the Almshouse, to glory. 

An aged woman, Mrs. G- — H— , requested to 
be remembered in our public prayers, and was visit- 
ed with personal instruction. 

" You. are siekand aged," I s-akl 



88 THE DISCONSOLATE BELIEVER. . 

" Tes, and that a* n't the worst of it ; I'm good for 
nothing" This she said, snarling at herself. 

u All which you say is very true." 

" I have a hard heart : I am a poor, wretched sin- 
ner, in great distress; Vm so wicked that Vm 
afraid Christ xvill not receive me. iy 

" If you are wicked, you need a Saviour, and if 
your heart is hard, he can soften it." 

" Ay, but hoxv shall I get it softened? Vvepraifd 
a great xvhile, that Christ would make me feel* J 
wish he would /" 

" Christ is more willing to make you holy, than 
you are to be made holy. You need not say that 
there is any reluctance on his part." 

" Dear gentleman, you must know more about the 
blessed Saviour than I do ; but I zvish that he would 
have mercy on me, and give me a new heart* I want 
to trust in h'vn, and love him." 

Here I remembered in what manner my friend, 
Dr. M'Leod, addressed a pious woman on a similar 
occasion, and therefore I demanded, 

" Pray tell me, what have you got against the 
Lord Jesus Christ ?" 

She lifted up both hands and eyes, in great aston- 
ishment, and with the strongest expression of hor- 
rour said, 

" Got against him t Got against him I Why, no- 
thing! He came into the zvorld to save poor sinners^ 
and I have nobody but him to look to /" 

" Oh ! then it seems that you have much to say in 
his favour. Do you believe that he will lie l n 



BLIND DONALLYo 89 

" No, no, never V 

" Believe, then, that he is able and willing to save 
you, and, hard as your heart is, give yourself into 
his hands." 

Great, indeed, is her humility and fervour ; but 
she has been looking to her polluted heart for con- 
solation, and thought Jesus would reject her for the 
very reason that she is so vile as to need his par- 
doning love» 

Poor blind Donally is a pattern of patience and 
faith. She wants nothing but the pardoning and 
sanctifying love of her dear Redeemer. 

Last of all, we visited a cellar full of the vilest of 
black people ; but one of them appeared to think 
and feel, and I should have entertained some hope 
of her experimental knowledge, had she not intro- 
duced something about u the strange visions which 
stie saw long ago." Visions should not come in \ 

place of the word of God ; fancies should not be \ 

mistaken for a rational, as well as spiritual, faith in 
JesuSi 

I am sorry to state, that in many instances I have 
met with poor people, who knew none of the pecu- 
liar doctrines of Christianity, but verily believed 
themselves pious, because they had seen, in some 
Church, remarkable sights. Some have attempted 
to persuade me, that they have verily seen a glorious 
personage, whom they took to be the Lord Jesus; 
Granting, however, that all these wonderful form3 
have passed before the mental vision of a swooning 
person ; what then ? 

H2 



90 A LEARNED LAWYER 

" He that believeth not, shall be damned.'* 
Actually to see Christ* in the flesh, would not re-* 
new and sanctify the heart. A vision of myriads of 
angels, would not produce spying faith. Prophetic 
dreams would not constitute a covenant union be- 
tween the sinner and the Lord of Life. u Be not 
deceived." " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, ex- 
cept a man be born again, he cannot see the king- 
dom of God." 

March UU 

NOT long since, after Mr. John Stanford had 
preached in the State 3 s Prison, a lawyer, a prisoner, 
requested, and obtained leave, to ask publicly, a 
doctrinal question. 

Beside Mr. Stanford stood several persons, who 
were lately professional gentlemen, and one who had 
been professor of the learned languages in a Uni- 
versity. All were prisoners. 

" Pray," said the lawyer, Ned CrAig, "how can. 
you reconcile the general invitations, of the Gospel, 
with the doctrine of a particular election ? 5? 

Before the whole audience, Mj. Stanford turned 
to the learned part of his hearers, and said* "these 
gentlemen know, that it is not customary to teach 
children abstruse doctrines in any science, until they 
have first learned their grammar. I am no polem- 
ic, and preach to you the plain Gospel ; but you 
must learn the A, B, C of divinity, before I at- 
tempt to explain the subject of yo^r inquiry. 59 



CONFOUNDED. 91: 

The prisoners, gengtiUfy , resented Ned 3 s imperti- 
nence, for they considered him as intending to em- 
barrass their favourite teacher. On- of them, an 
old lawyer, who has been incarcerate I two or three 
times, wrote, in the style of Bunyan and Hudibras ? . 
the following lines, on this occasion. 

GOSPEL DOCTRINE 

TRIUMPHANT ; 

OR, 
SATAN AND 2TED CRAIG VANQUISHED, 

u While Stanford preach'd the Gospel pure. 
Which does So Christ our hearts allure, 
The Devil felt it such a plague, 
He enter'd into poor Ned Craig. 

Poor Neddy, prompt with hellish pride ? 
And ignorance too, in rolling tide, 
With meagre looks, and visage thin, 
Satan without, and hell within, 

Advanc'd towards the sacred desk, 
(Ignorance and pride were all his risk,) 
And did our parson there attack, 
With Satan's message, Neddy's clack= 

The parson answer'd, all discreet, 

That he polemics did not meet, 

And wish'd poor Ned to stop his clamour^ , 

And study close the school-boy's grammar^ 



92 SATAN AND THE GOSPEL* 

Our rev'rend parson did o'erthrow 
Satan and Neddy, thus in Co. : 
And thus to Satan and Ned Craig, 
Christ's doctrine is an endless plague. 

Poor Ned, sans sense, sans Gospel light, 
Loaded by Satan, challeng'd fight 
With him who's filPd with Gospel lore. 
And riches, an eternal store. 

Good Stanford's doctrines he can't shock $■-■ 
They're built on an Eternal Rock - 9 . 
But Neddy's are but hay and stubble, 
Just like himself — old Satan's bubble 

O, Lucifer ! receive your son I 
You've loaded him as your pop-gun, 
And now you're out of ammunition, 
You're both consign 'd unto perdition ! 



By the politeness of Mr. Stanford, I am permit- 
ted to present the reader with a copy of the Latin 
address, of which the author's translation- was pub- 
lished in my former Journal.* That a prisoner s 
without books, should thus elegantly write, will cer- 
tainly surprise most of our English Latinists. 

* See page 22h 



93 

" ANNI NO VI DONUM; 
Reverendfssimo Johanni Stanford, Artium Ma- 

gistrOy Theologi* Doctors hominumque amico y 
Cum diffident? a, 

Dedicatum est. 

u Si liceat, me miserum, in carcere clausum, et 
ignominia circumtectum, te salutare ; memor anni 
pr«eteriti, multorumque tuorum laborum ad illumin- 
andas nostrum mentes imperitas,tibi beneficia divina 
rogo. Tui conatus, in consolandis mcerendbus, tra- 
hendisque animis ad peccantium Servatorem, gra- 
tias poscunt. Non mihi verba sunt, quibus mentis 
mei cogitata enuntiare. Non blanditias, sed verum 
loquor. Est tibi suavitas in modo loquendi, qua? 
miserimos solatur, et benignitatem dicentis per~ 
spicue indicat. Hum corpus dolore languescit, ani- 
mum cum evangelii aliment© nutris. 

" Ut cera dura igne calefacta sit, ita tuis sermon- 
ibus corda obstinata ad accipienda veritatis divina? 
vestigia parata sunt ; atque, dum mens in dubio er~ 
rat, viam ad felicitatem taternam monstras* 

11 Pro tuis officiis benignis, quibus ssepissime po- 
liti sumus, prosperitatem tuam, hoc anno novo au- 
geri, setatemque longam in terris te conterere, pre- 
cor ; atque, quando vitam mortalem reiinques, De- 
us ad superos te accipiat; ubi, adjunctus beatis s 
Dei Agnique laudes in seternum modulare. 
" Ita precatur, 

« O— P— . 

a Januarii primodie, annoque Domini 1812* 
*' Nota bene. In line a ultima, pro Dei, ejus lege,* 5 



94f A GLORIOUS DEATH. 

" I said to my soul, thy evening shall be calm, and thy 
departure like a fading light*' 

At six o'clock this morning, while seated in a 
chair, in the perfect possession of his reason, and 
full of the hope of immortality, departed the Ger- 
man, of whom I wrote yesterday, to enter into the 
immediate presence of his Lord, 

vwvwvw 

March 2d. 
THREE wards of the Hospital were visited this 
afternoon; but I have nothing worthy of record, 
except the opinion of a captain of one of the gun- 
boats, " that upon the whole he has done very well, 
that he has sinned but little, and that he has done 
more than good deeds enough to balance all the 
criminality of swearing a little, when he could not 
help it.'* A thousand forms self- righteousness as- 
sumes> to allure us to perdition ! 

WVVWWV 

March 3d. 

TO complain of most offensive breath in the 
Almshouse, would be a matter of course, if it could 
answer any valuable purpose ; but since the evil is 
irremediable, I have only to say, that a pain seated 
in the right lobe of my lungs, made my sermon 
short, and prevented me afterwards from visiting 
more than one sick person. 

How many are the tears of the poor ! Mrs. X. Y. 
was in bed with her children, and her thin face was 
the picture of distress* 



A BAD FATHER. 9o 

" How many children have you?" 

" Oh ! dear Sir" clasping her hands, she said 5 
ui J have three." 

" Have they no father living ?" 

" Tes, Sir, a father livings and no father, as one 
may say," 

This is often the case, for vicious habits are more 
powerful than all natural feelings. Of this I have 
had abundant evidence in the course of this week. 
On the first day of the week, an old man, of respect- 
able standing in society, who has several children 
living, and whose wife, with one child and a ser- 
vant, were a few years since consumed in the flames 
of his dwelling, was committed to the tomb. Not 
a fortnight ago he consulted a quack in medicine, 
that he might expel the most ignominious poison 
from his system. The companion whom he kept, 
died not long before him. Not all his natural af- 
fection for his lost wife, and living children ; no, not 
hoary hairs, nor visibly approaching death, could re- 
strain his lusts. 

You were not too delicate to read Sterne's wri- 
tings, gentle reader. Then read on ; but read to 
yourself alone. 

Yes, and I have moreover had evidence, that the 
habit of promiscuous concubinage can annihilate 
maternal tenderness, to such a degree, that a young 
and tender female, as well as one old in debauchery, 
will hazard her own life, to destroy the unconscious 
witness of her infamy. This sin of murder, (lor it 
is nothing less,) deserves the most severe reproba- 



96 GENTEEL MURDERERS. 

tion. We may not preach upon such subjects : 
but should the wicked never be warned ? I thus 
write, because some of the baser sort may read this 
Journal, as I am sure some have read my former ; 
^and because I know that multitudes in this city, and 
some deemed genteel, but unfortunate persons, ob- 
tain the diabolical assistance of unprincipled mon- 
sters, who destroy incipient life. How can such 
guilty females, and quack accomplices, excuse their 
conduct ? The cry ought to be raised, of " Mur- 
der ! Murder !" and the offenders ought to fear a 
■gallows. 

But let us return to the sick woman. 
" Are you prepared to die ?" 
" Oh I no / no I lam not /" 
, " It is of infinite importance, then, that you 
should be ; for this sickness may be unto death. 
Do you wish to be ready for your last change ?" 

u Indeed I do, Sir ;" was the answer of her lips, 
-but her tears spoke more effectually than any articu- 
late sounds. 

" Know, then, that preparation for death consists 
in faith and repentance. In order to the exercise of 
faith, you must know that you are a sinner. You 
•are a poor, miserable offender, polluted in heart and 
life. Do you believe that you have offended God; 
that you are under condemnation ; and that the 
Lord would do you. no wrong, if he should send 
you to hell?" 

" Indeed I know, Sir, that I am a great sinner? 
{ and that God would be right to to — ♦" 



AN AFFLICTED MOTHER. 97 

" Yes, he would be just, were he to punish you 
with everlasting misery : but if you know that you 
are a sinner, the next thing is to learn, that Jesus 
Christ is the Saviour of sinners. God testifies, that 
he so loved the world as to give his dear Son to die 
for sinners, that every one who believes on him, so 
as thankfully to accept him, may be saved. Now God 
has sent me to offer you the Lord Jesus for your Sa- 
viour. God is willing to bestow this " unspeakable 
gift." In his name I declare to you, that he is able, 
and willing, to save you from all your iniquities, and 
from the damnation of hell. Do you believe the tes- 
timony of God? Do you believe what Christ says 
by his minister r" 

" yes, I do as well as lean: may God be merci- 
ful to me a sinner ! v 

" That is a -very good prayer. Shall I pray with 
you?" 

" I wish you would" 

We united in supplication ; and then she said^ 

" Oh come and see me again ; do, Sir." 

'" If we live. May God bless you. Good nights" 



Vwwvvv-v 



March Itlu 

v< The people are like the waves of ocean : like the leaves of 
woody Morven, they pass away in the rustling blast, and other 
leaves lift their green heads." 

OSSIAN. 

THIS is true of the people of my charge, in a 
peculiar manner, for I am the pastor of a diseased 
fiock, Not a single goat after which I am obliged 
i 



9a A CRAZY RESPONDENT. 

to look, not a single sheep which it is my delight to 
feed, is sound in body, or comfortable in worldly 
circumstances. To render the matter still more un- 
pleasant, I have felt a pain in my side, which has 
convinced me that I cannot preach perpetually in 
the atmosphere of death. Since the 3d instant, the 
poor have been deserted by the writer, but to-day 
the Lord has enabled him to preach three times, as 
he has done for many months, on the Sabbath, and 
pray in four sick rooms, with not less than one hun- 
dred persons who could not attend public worship. 
During the delivery of one sermon, a man who was 
beside himself, forced his way into the room, and 
created much disturbance. The preacher was de- 
scribing those persons who possess the filial fear of 
the Lord, and said, " let none who treat the name of 
God with disrespect imagine, that they belong to 
this class." 

" That's very clear" muttered the crazy fellow. 

" Again, let none suppose, that they fear the 
Lord, if they do not diligently seek to avoid tempta- 
tion, to turn away from every thing which is displeas- 
ing to his holiness, and to perform those duties 
which require active obedience to his laws. You 
have no filial fear of God if you do not fear to of- 
fend him, either by negligence or transgression." 

" He is a fool" said the insane man, " who does 
not feel and know that" 

I could not refrain from the remark, that manyl 
lunatics are much more rational in their inferences,! 
than thousands of sinners, who hear the werds of life] 



LONGING FOR- PARDON. 99 

without conviction, and still think themselves sound 
in understanding. The interruption which this wild 
man caused, was extremely unpleasant, for the time, 
but it gave occasion for an exhortation to employ 
aright the moments of our sanity, which many seem- 
ed to feel. Alady of distinction sat before me, during 
this application of the incidents of the evening, who 
not long since was in a state of derangement : but I 
did not, while speaking, recollect the fact. I per- 
ceived in her uncommon perturbation, and can now 
account for it. Well, well, I did not design to 
wound afresh a stricken heart, and may the Lord 
sanctify my application for her spiritual prosperity. 

After praying w r ith patient, pious, blind Donally, 
we sought and found, in one of the hospital wards of 
the Almshouse, which contain none but sick per- 
sons, Mrs. X. Y. the afflicted mother, with whom 
the writer conversed on the third day of the month. 
She is separated from her children, and is extreme- 
ly feeble, but says that her chief anxiety is about the 
welfare of her immortal soul. 
" Izuant nothing- so much as that God should please 
to pardon my sins." 

" Do you think that you are now prepared to die V 3 

" I fear lam not y Sir, but I pray as well as Lean? 
that God would prepare me" 

The same old woman, Mrs. G. H. who was visit- 
ed on the 28th of February, said, " I think I have a 
little faith ; but it is weak. I don't pray in faith 
I'm afear^d. I keep mad at myself for my own 
wzekedy unbelieving- heart" 



100 A CONTRITE HEART. 

44 It is hard work to be patient, poor woman. 
Don't you find it so ?" 

" Thai I do, Sir ; but he must make me willing ta 
suffer and die," 

44 Now tell me, candidly, if you don't want a 
snug parlour, and good accommodations, and kind 
friends, more than any thing else V 

"No indeed, dear gentleman, I don't* I want 
my hard heart taken away more than any thing 
else. The favour of God, and the pardon of sins, is 
all the elegant parlour and fine things that I want. 
But still, P 11 tell you, that I hope to get better, and 
get out of here y to die in some other place, before 
lang." 

44 No one can blame you for desiring a place of 
more peace and comfort ; but may you be prepared 
For a better world. Shall I pray with you V y * 

u Oh, do, Sir, for that's xvhat Hike" 

From the wards of forlorn hope, one whom I sought 
had departed ; but she gave as much evidence of a 
renewed heart, as one in her circumstances could 
present. For about two years she has lingered with 
the fatal poison, and been bed-rid, under my religi- 
ous care, without intermission, either in the Hospi- 
tal or Almshouse. She affectionately warned others, 
but her place is already filled by two ; and in many 
other instances we saw them stowed in as thick as 
they could lie, upon the narrow beds. Two were 
iompelled to occupy the place designed for one. 
The tall, modest country girl, M— M — , of whom 
some account maybe found under the date of Febru-> 



THE TALL COUNTRY GIRL. 101 

ary 7th, is in danger of losing her eyes. Alas I she 
was seduced, and for more than a year has acted 
such a humble part, that the hardened wretches 
around her seem to feel compassion for her, more 
than for themselves. The Magdalen Society would 
have taken charge of her, had they possessed any 
funds for the support of apparently penitent incura- 
bles. 

i<r Do you pray V y I asked. 

" / attempt it" she replied, in a faltering voice P 
"■ but I fear that I do not pray aright" 

tt Do you hate your past sins l" 

" Oh i I would never return to them /" 

" The grace of God alone could keep you 
from a return, with returning health j but you will 
probably never be well. Are you solicitous about 
preparation for death I" 

" / have no expectation of being well, and I do 
wish the pardon of my soul, and preparation for my 
last change" 

" That preparation consists in repentance towards 
God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ." 

In this manner the writer continued to incul- 
cate such doctrines as his readers cannot wish him 
to repeat and re-repeat, unless they can sympathize 
with this humble sinner. Not all her tears, not a 
year of pain, and exquisite shame, can restore her to 
the happy condition from which she was enticed % 
no, not the power of medicine, nothing but a mira- 
cle, can save her from obliterated sight, and ulcerated 
flesh and bones* " The flower hangs its heavy 
i2 



102 v SOME KIND LADIES* 

head, waving, -at times, to the gale. * Why dos'c 
thou awake, me, O gale V it seems to say, ' I am 
covered with the drops of heaven. The time of my 
fading is near, and the blast that shall scatter my 
leaves* To-morrow the traveller shall come ; he 
that saw me in my beauty shall come ; his eyes will 
search the field, but they will not find me !' " 

Many children repeated hymns ; Mr. B— r as- 
sisted in prayer, and took the charge of visiting se- 
veral rooms ; while Mrs. M— and Mrs. G r 

humanely accompanied me, to deal out, with a libe- 
ral hand, some palatable nutriment to the most af- 
flicted. The kindness of these ladies, I doubt not, 
conciliates in my favour, as well as their own, the 
particular attention and affection cf some ; for kind- 
ness to the suffering body not unfrequently opens 
the mind of the person relieved, to receive instruc- 
tion from the almoner. While nothing is due to 
me in this case, I think it a happiness to designate 
the most proper objects of favour* Let me say, 
however, that I verily Relieve some spiritual good 
has resulted from the attention which I gained, by^ 
presenting, on the first of January, a cooky, u a genu- 
ine -Knickerbocker," to each of the ruirCd ones in 
two wards. Gain the good-will of a dog, and you 
may teach him,; kick him, and he will bite you. 

The room in which W— »• F— died I entered in 
haste, for a moment, and a poor woman, Mrs. V — >, 
who has lost the use of her extremities by the rheu- 
matism, raised herself to say, in plaintive voice, 
^ Dorft forget to come and see me, and pray with 



A PIOUS MOTHER. 103 

me. I was afraid you had forgotten me. Do 
come." 

" To-morrow, if I can V 9 Poor believer ! She 
is covered with rags, and her face is the face of 
woe. 

March 8th. 

TO-MORROW came, and I fulfilled my pro- 
mise to Mrs. V. 

" Accept a few apples, they may do you good.** 

" I thank you, Sir, but it was only yourself that I 
wanted.' 9 

She shed a tear or two, and said, " It makes me 
feel quite happy to see any of the Lord's people, and 
hear them converse. It makes no odds to me who 
they are, if they are christians." 

" All the people of God mutually love one anoth- 
er, for every thing which they discover in each 
other, that is like Christ* This fellowship of sou! 
is one of the plainest, and most satisfactory eviden- 
ce's, that those who possess a share in it, have passed 
from death to life," 

The Apostle John delighted to dwell on this proof 
of regeneration. u He that loveth his brother abid- 
eth in the light," " We know that we have passed 
from death unto life, because we love the brethren.'* 
" My little children, let us not love in word, neither 
in tongue ; but in deed and in truth. And hereby 
we know that we are of the truth, and shall assure 
our hearts before him,' 5 4l Beloved, let us love one 



t04 LOVE, AN EFFECT, 

another : for love is of' God ; and every one that 
loveth is born of God, and knoweth God." This 
love regards not the natural, but the spiritual 
qualifications, of a child of God j for the wicked may 
delight in some of the constitutional excellencies of 
the gor>d, while they hate their piety. And here, 
let it be remembered too, that every good man has 
many things in his complex character, which every 
good man ought to hate ; for the most upright in our 
miserable world have much sinful imperfection-* 
The natural disposition of a renewed person may 
be austere and bitter j while the constitutional tem- 
perament of an unbeliever may be amiable j in which 
case, the Christian should hate the natural evil which 
adheres to the first, and love the native amability of 
tha latter* 

Love everything, which resembles Christ, and 
hate every thing, which is like the Devil. 

u But I often ask myself" continued the good 
woman, " ' how shall I know that I am a child of 
God? K I cannot read, and I know but little. Oh, if 
I could read the Bible /" 

" If you love God and Christ, as well as good 
people, you may know that you are of Christ, by the 
Spirit which he has given you. Once you had no 
such feelings, and you did not produce them in 
yourself. Now you must know that God does not 
give his enemies the disposition of children* Tell 
me, do you not hate your past sins V* 

?•■! do abhor myself when I think of my former 
wicked ways ; and now I says to myself i am la 
child of God P Then? ' he chastens every child whom 



AND EVIDENCE OF REGENERATION. 105 

he lovethS Then 1 thinks , ' well, if I may be a child, 
let him afflict me still more, and as long as he pleas-" 
esS And that comforts me." 

" How long have you been here ? and how long 
have your hands been drawn up into such knots ?" 
They scarcely resembled any thing human. 

" / have been in the Almshouse five years, but I 
hate been so bad as to be helpless only four years, 
I sometimes ask, ' how long, dear Lord, must 1 suffer- 
here P and then I.say y l if he loves me, it is enough? 
If I could read, I think some of my hours would pass 
pleasantly away, but I must depend on what I 
hear:' 

I repeated a part of the fourteenth chapter of 
John's Gospel, and asked if others did not read 
for her. Her eldest girl could read a little, she 
said, but could not make it out very well, and 
sometimes one of her fellow-sufferers attempted 
to read for her, but there was so much noise in 
the room that she often lest the sense. Figure ts> 
yourselves, readers, a room almost full of Roman 
Catholics, smoking, talking^ washing, patching old 
rags, walking from one end of the room to the other, 
counting and repeating " pater nosters 5 ' as they go ; 
imagine twenty children present doing all things, as 
they have occasion, even before the writer ; and 
then ask, how could a poor old woman, bolstered up 
in bed, understand the Bible, when miserably read 
by a child, or some old matron almost as ignorant 
as herself I Yet, in such a situation, this woman 
resigns herself to the divine will ? and seems better 



106 



acquainted with the word of God than the greater part 
of persons, who can read for themselves, at leisure. 
The principal cause of distress to this poor woman 
is the situation of her children. One is bound out 
in a pious family. This she stated as a great source 
of consolation, and said she was satisfied, " for, Sir, 
the family is religious and moral." Her eldest 
child, a daughter of about fourteen years, sat on her 
bed. 

" It is for this one lam troubled, IvAsh she was 
put out into a good family, -where she could have a 
home ; but then, 1 should have no one to assist me f 
for lam helpless." 

Here the tears followed each other in quick suc- 
cession. 

" Oh ! it is a great blessing. Sir, to be in a religi~ 
ous family, and I wish nothing in this life but to see 
my children well provided for " 

Alas ! this woman has a husband, and these chil- 
dren a father ; but what can bind an unfeeling man, 
devoid of principle, to a wife who cannot adminis- 
ter to his brutal pleasures ? Marriage vows are but 
cobweb-ligaments to such a wretch. Such hus- 
bands, such fathers, there are, and not among the 
poor alone ! 

A throng of poor people from the city, were 
waiting, at the door of the office of the Almshouse,, 
for relief. What do you think of the charity of this 
city, reader ? Is it small ? In the course of one week 
three thousand families have been comforted 
by wood, potatoes, meal, or meat, from this estab- 



THREE WIDOWS. " 107 

lishment. It is only in a christian land that the pub- 
lic, as well as individuals^ supply food to the hungry 
and clothing to the naked. Should they be left to 
starve ? God causes his sun to rise on the unjust, 
the negligent, the ungrateful and abominable. 

"l/WWVVW ' 

March 9th. 

M Behold that daughter of grief. The fever rankles in her 
veins. She has no partner dearer than her own soul, on 
whose bosom she may recline her throbbing head. Her 
name is widow. Desolate, forsaken, helpless, she is 
stretched on the ground. The wintry blast howls 
through her habitation, and famine keeps the door." 

Mason on Living Faith, in 1801° 

* f Yes, I will conduct you to the dismal habitation, and you 
shall ask the daughter of sorrow, who dwells there, 
^why her bosom throbs with sighs, and why her eyes 
are suffused with tears ? And she will tell you, that her 
name is widow" 

Nott, before the Ladies' Society, in 1804. 

u If there be a name which bears in its very sound an ir- 
resistible appeal to the heart of benevolence ; it is 
the name of widow" 

G. Spring, before the Widows* Society, in 1811, 

SINCE I am about to tell the story of three 
widows, it seemed proper to give the first, second, 
ana third generation of my motto. 

At the request of Mrs. M ### ^, once a widow, and 
now a widow again in every respect but a legal one, 
I went to a house in Henry-street, to instruct a sick 
and dying woman. In the third loft, the garret, I 
found the very person through whose habitation the 



./ 



IDS THREE WIDOW'S. 

wintry blast howls, and whose door is kept hf 
famine. She has been feeble for years, and for five 
months has been unable to leave her bed. Her hus- 
band died of a fever in Havanna, and left her, sick, 
and pennyless, to support two little children. One 
bed, one chair, and the half of another, one table, 
one candlestick, and a cup, an old pot, and the 
piece of a frying pan, is the complete inventory of 
her furniture. Her mother, an aged widow, spends 
the day with her, and in the night returns home; 
that is, to the house of another poor daughter, whose 
husband has marched with the army for Canada. 

" What then do you do in the night ? Are your 
neighbours kind ?" 

*' / do not know" said the sick young widow, 
u much about my nearest neighbours^ but I have 
watchers almost every night. Last fait \ you know, 
mother, I said I would commit myself wholly into 
the hands of God, and he has wonderfully supported 
me* 

" Yes, I know it," said the mother, " and he has 
given you Christian friends, and sent help that we 
knew nothing about. There's poor widow M****," 
(meaning the lady who sent me to instruct the dying) 
"who's spoor widow herself, (for she is a widow 
indeed, while her husband lives) with five children, 
and lives by keeping a little school ; she has done 
more, this winter, for my poor daughter, than all the 
city besides. One cold stormy day, when my daugh- 
ter had no wood, that good little woman went her- 
self to Whitehall after a load, and came up to see k 



RELIGIOUS WATCHERS. 109 

delivered, and looked after my poor daughter as if 
she'd been her sister, Sir V- 

" The Lord will reward her for all her kindness, 
either in her own person, or in her children." 

With this Mrs. M ## * # ,.the reader shall soon be 
more perfectly acquainted. 

u Ifs a great favour ', Sir," added the sick widow, 
% that I generally have religious watchers, I do not 
zvant any others. They ask me, why? The reason 
is, if they d'tft religious, they keep talking about 
their beaux and balls, and such things, which I do 
not wish to hear" 

" Once, however, I suppose, you were fond of 
these things yourself, and thought of little else." 

She blushed more deeply, sighed, and shaking 
her head, with displeasure at the past, said, a Ay, it 
was the case" 

" You now find, that the vanities which amuse in 
health, will not console any one in death. '' 

We prayed ; and I doubt not the Father of Mer- 
cies heard our supplication. 

" HER NAME IS WIDOW." 

Mason. 

<vwwwv\ 

March 10th. 

&t Compassion drives each sterner thought away, 
And all seem good when mouldering in the ciay." 

Wilson. 

NO sooner had I pronounced the apostolical ben- 
ediction, heard W — R — repeat seven stanzas, and 

K 



110 THE SICK VISITED. 

distributed a few hymn-books, in the Almshouse, 
this evening, than a lame old woman, of enormous 
corpulence, caught me by the arm, and half dragging 
ome along, said, " Come, come, dear Sir, make haste y 
one of your friends is dying, "who sets great store by 
you. She wanted to see you" We were soon by 
her bed, but she was past speech. Night had de- 
scended on her eyes. The breath struggled to be 
gone. We prayed for her ; but whether she knew 
any thing, is uncertain. Purple spots covered her 
skin, and, if I am not deceived in my prognostica- 
tion, this disease, which in the Hospital, and in 
many parts of our country, has derided medicine, 
will not play a farce for the King of Terrors. His 
departure from the Almshouse, will be marked by 
a long line of graves. 

An old woman, Mrs. M C Z— , one of my stand- 
ing acquaintance for a long time, lies muffled up be- 
side the dying person. Her face is scarcely visible. 
She lifted up her withered hands, her wasted eyes, 
and said, " I continually pray for the pardon of my 
sinsy to my blessed Saviour, and I hope he will pre- 
pare me to depart" 

In the middle of the room reclined O' — M — , 
who has lately been sent from the Hospital, under 
the sentence of incurable. Five months she was 
confined there, and she feels grateful for the atten- 
tion she received, which would have restored her, if 
the healing art could have effected any thing in her 
case. 



THE PEEVISH SINNER AGAIN. Ill 

" Oh I Sir, how glad I was to hear the sound of 
your voice. Do you come here too P I thought I 
should hear you no more. Tou can't tell hozu thank- 
ful lam to you" 

Her tears were the witness that the Gospel had 
rendered me an object of affectionate regard. She 
confesses herself to have deserved all her afflictions, 
and thousands more ; but thinks that God has 
caused them to work for her good. Yea, she blesses 
the Lord for her sorrows, I think, with as much sin- 
cerity, as for direct mercies. 

A little beyond this person, the fever burned the 
lips of Mrs. X. Y. She " does pray as well as she 
can, and that's miserably enough" But she seems 
more calm, and more entirely resigned to the divine 
pleasure. 

After attention was paid to this patient, the nurse 
requested me to speak to a woman whose face she 
uncovered, saying, that she was very low. Imme- 
diately I recognized the countenance of S. S. T., 
who was ready to die without any preparation. 

" I pray every day and night" she said, " that 
God would make me well, or let me die." 

" That is a very Unsuitable prayer. You ought 
to entreat God to prepare you for life and for death j 
and especially, that he would make you willing to 
endure all his pleasure. '* 

" Oh I I hope he' 11 take me to himself for I do not 
expect any peace here." 

" Should he grant your request, you would be 
miserable in his presence without a new heart, with- 
out love to him, and Jesus Christ.** 



112 SOME DAUGHTERS OF 

" I know that" 

" Then you ought to ask of God the gift of faith 
and repentance, that you may be united to Christ, 
that he may actually dwell in you, and make you 
holy. Your first petition ought to respect the par- 
don of your sins, and the sanctification of your 
soul." 

After a little more conversation she said, that 
she was now willing to be instructed, and I promised 
to pay her particular attention in future. 

[f Mrs. V — , with whom I prayed in the cellar, is 
not a Christian, I cannot think where I could find 
one. Not a word of complaint escapes her tongue. 
Gratitude has its residence in her heart, and the law 
of love is on her quivering lips. 

The aged madam G — H — , sat up in her bed, 
with clasped hands. The tears were rolling down 
her cheeks, or rather dropping over the ridges of 
them, when I approached. 

" Dear gentleman, is it you f Don't forget me in 
your prayers, I have a stony heart. Oh I that 
he zvould take aivay this heart of sin, and give me a 
new heart" 

" You mourn for your sin j and he says, ' Blessed 
are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. 5 
You appear to hunger after righteousness ;" 

" Why, then, am I not filed? Oh ! that he would 
sanctify me, and give 'me a firm .assurance that he is 
my Redeemer, I want to know that I have an in- 
terest in his blood" 



THE LORD ALMIGHTY;, 11S- 

" The Psalmist not only desired salvation, but 
prayed for evidence, yea, for an assurance, of his 
interest in the Saviour. 'Say unto my soul, I 
am thy salvation,' But you must be contented 
to -wait God's time. He will answer you when he 
deems it suitable." 

This woman is so much above seventy, that she 
forgets her age. She appears to be contrite ; but I 
should judge that she has naturally something of a 
bitter temper. At least she always speaks of her- 
self, and of her wicked heart, in a snappish manner, 
and in acrimonious language. 

Finally, in another room, the fourth which I visited^ 
a gray-headed blind woman, whom I never observ- 
ed before, sat upon her bed, and wept like a child. 

" I went up stairs to hear Mr. Ely, to-night, but 
it is ahvays so full when he preaches 1 '' 

Here another interrupted, " Why, you are talking 
to the gentleman himself!" 

"I know it. I know his voice, when he comes r 
but it was so full that I could not get a seat near, and 
so could not hear very well, for lam old and deaft. n 

" You can commonly hear, I should think." 

u Tes, Sir ; and if s my greatest happiness. lean 
never, never love and praise- the great and blessed 
God enough for all that he does for me. 1 he is a ■ 
kind and merciful God to me. I feel ashamed that I 
cm not more humble and thankful.* 

Her heart seems. to be melted by the divine good- 
ness, and every thing which the Lord does, she. 
deems a mercy* 

& 2 



114 THE CONSUMPTION DELUSIVE* 

Here is a lesson for the man of wealth, the child 
of ambition, the son of science, and the puppet of 
popular applause. This woman, old, blind,, desti- 
tute of friends, meanly clad, and coarsely fed, 
dwelling in a room with thirty little children and 
their mothers, is happy, is humble, is grateful, and 
thinks, because she feels, that her Father is, to her, 
" a God all mercy/' not unjust. 

The clock strikes twelve. Let me resign the pen, 
and repose under the wings of Providence, for 

41 Tears are .wintry streams, that waste away my soul.** 

March llt/u 

iS When slow consumption leads, with fatal bloom, 
A rosy spectre — smiling to the tomb.'* 

IT is the invariable effort of the writer, to con- 
vince the deluded child of hope, that all expectation 
of health is vain. What will be the result of the es> 
ertions of this afternoon, in this respect, time must 
disclose. In six wards of the Hospital, a short, 
message was delivered from the King of kings* 
One could only answer by signs ; several disregard- 
ed instruction; but two young men, who are re- 
covering from the spotted fever, expressed much 
gratitude for what they are pleased to account be- 
nevolence in the writer. The aged Universalist 
was very polite, but not so voluble as Xhave known 
him. 



OCCASIONAL DRUNKENNESS. , 115- 

Mat ch 14th. 

"Then, though confu&'d, distress'd, ashamed, afraid, 

Still had the trembling penitent obey'd ; 

Though Faith had fainted, when assail'd by fear? 

Hope to the soul had whisper'd, « persevere !' 

Till in his father's house, a humble guest, 

He would haye found forgiveness, comfort, rest 5 * 

Craeee. 

WHILE I was preaching in the Hospital this 
morning, an English seaman sat beside me, and 
wept continually. He has often discovered, on a 
similar occasion, the same feelings. It is difficult 
to form an opinion of him, for his character is that 
of a Christian, with one exception 5 he will, occa- 
sionally, drink intemperately. Formerly he became 
mad by intoxication ^ but ever since his recovery, 
deducting only a few weeks, he has been assist- 
ant-keeper in the Lunatic Asylum* No man is 
more faithful in the discharge of his duty, than he 
commonly is. No man seems to feel more deeply* 
than himself, the need a sinner stands in of the di- 
vine mercy. Few men appear to abhor the sin of 
drunkenness more thoroughly. He has been accuse 
tomed to drink nothing but his allowance of beer 
daily ; and he has made many solemn promises to 
taste of no other liquor ; but once in a few months 
he will enter the city to visit some friends, they 
will invite him to take another mug of ale, and then 
he has no sort of government of himself. He drinks 
until he can no longer stand. After a fit, his con= 
Tactions and tears are renewed. He is haunted with 



116 THE DANGER OF EVIL HABITS. 

extreme horrors, thinks himself lost, but will plead 
with God, almost continually, for mercy. He con- 
fesses his transgressions, in a most humble manner, 
is fond of the Bible, and of public worship, and en- 
treats that he may be locked up in one of the cells, 
when he is likely to become intemperate again* In 
short, he gives evidence that he is as much of a 
humble penitent, and sincere believer, as he can be, 
and yet occasionally have a drunken frolic. How 
invincible are those habits, which have, for a long 
time, been interwoven with the woof of our exist* 
ence ! 

A drunkard, and a Christian! It cannot be*. 
Those names cannot subsist together in fellowship, - 



A tale of the evening ; like the tale of the times of okl. 

There was preaching in another room, c6ntigu- 
9\is to the one which I occupied, in the Almshouse,- 
but mine was full to overflowing. The air was full 
of smoke, and of that flavour which is far worse : I 
was unwell, and surrounded by ago, widowhood, 
decrepitude, the consumption perpetually altering * 
his voice, blindness, poverty, and disease of almost" 
every name ; but still there was attention > still ths - 
God of consolation was there. 

We ascended into one of the most -death&l cham- 
bers. Mrs. M>Z — was delighted to see us. She 
m a member of one of the Presbyterian churches,.; 
andiias sustained a pious character for many years* .» 



THE SLEEPER AROUSED. 117 

For more than two years I have witnessed her pa- 
tience, in scenes which are sufficient to try one's 
faith. Her faith is fire-proof. 

Mrs. X. Y. is a little better in body and mincf. 
She assured us, that when she felt a little better, and 
had hope of life, she did not think less of God and 
Christ, than when she was most apprehensive of 
death. 

I spake to the young S. A. E— , of whom the 
reader has had some account under the date of the 
5th of February. She did not answer. Again I 
addressed her. Her countenance was, apparently, 
that of perfect health. Even a smile seemed to re- 
pose on her lips. " Well, she is slumbering, and I 
must leave her." 

" Oh / don't, Sir" exclaimed a miserable, shatter- 
ed female, standing beside her, "for she has kept in 
this sleep, ever since yesterday morning.'* 

u Then I suppose the sleep of death is descending 
upon her* I have instructed her often, and should 
gladly do it again, but now it seems impossible." 

Two women, who were anxious to awake the 
sleeper, spoke to her again and again, shaking her 
violently, until I begged them to desist. They 
shook her again, however, saying, u wake up ; the 
minister wants to speak to you" They finally suc- 
ceeded, and she rolled her plaintive, full-orbed eyes, 
on me, with, " I'm glad to see you, Sir" 

" You seem to be sleeping the sleep of death ; are 
you prepared to die ?" 



118 THE PEEVISH SINNER, 

" I fear lam not ; but lam in God's hands, and I 
pray, that if he takes me away, he would take me to 
himself" 

" Are you willing to die ??* 

u He must do with me, as he pleases ; but I pray 
that he zvould have mercy on me," 

" Can you keep awake while we offer a short 
prayer ? Perhaps it will be the last." 

" I should be glad to : I will try ; for Ixuish to 
pray." 

We prayed ; and the sobbings of her companions, 
who were on their knees around her, were sufficient 
to keep her awake, if any human means could. 

The nurse said, " Miss S* S, T, wishes to see 
you, Sir, in the next room* She is removed," 

" I am unwell, and will call on her to-morrow. 
Will that answer ?" 

" Oh, Sir, do go now. She has been wishing to 
see you ever since you was here last. She has late- 
ly lost her still-bom infant, and the doctor gives her 
over," 

With pain I went. Her face was white almost as 
the paper on which I write ; her arms were like 
those of painted death ; and her penetrating eyes 
were suffused with tears. 

" lam glad, Sir, that you have come" 

It was before known to me, that her body was 
emaciated by the consumption, which often suc- 
ceeds the cure of the plague of illicit love. It was 
well understood, long ago, that she must arise no 
more, and now I saw the King of Terrors darkly 



TtfUCH IMPROVED. 119 

hovering at the foot of her couch. Avast, thou 
monster ! Let me speak again, before the blow. 
" I must deal plainly with you." 
u That is why I wish to see you ; because I know 
yotfll tell me what you think. Ton ought to speak 
plainly to one in my circumstances" 

" Well, then, I think that you are a poor wretch, 
covered with sin, shame, and guilt. You are un- 
holy, and unclean. You deserve hell. You are soon 
to die ; and if you die without union to the Lord 
Jesus Christ, I think, I know, that you will sink into 
perdition." 

u To be sure lam a poor sinner, and I pray God 
to make me well, or take me to himself, to a better 
world. After my late distress, I hoped that I should 
be better ; but I am full of pain " 

Her countenance sufficiently indicates, that she 
suffers extreme agonies ; and I replied, " You wiH 
soon die. The important question, therefore, is, 
4 How can I appear before God, in peace V God 
will not accept of your works, nor of your prayers, 
nor of your tears? 5 

" Oh, Sir, I do pray, and do all lean?* 
44 You can do nothing : you must receive every 
thing. Christ offers to give you pardon, peace, 
sanctification, and salvation. He offers to give you 
freely, HIMSELF, that you may have an interest 
in his obedience and death. Are you willing to 
receive him ? He gives himself for your sins." 

" Oh, I need him; I need him ; and Ipray that ke 
will have mercy on ms" 



120 THE STATE OF CONNECTICUT. 

After prayer, she thanked me with much eager- 
ness. 

Still there was another room to visit. The wri- 
ter sighed as he went. It was the room of the for- 
lorn females. " Painful it is to dwell on deeds of 
shame." 

u How many sleep in this room ?" 

" Thirty-six, Sir." 

Alas ! I have never exceeded the real number in 
my calculations ! 

" Where is the person who wishes to see me ?" 

They pointed me to her bed. She was of a full 
face, was very sick, and much troubled in mind. 
She came, she says, from Connecticut. 

My native State ! I still love thee ; and rejoice 
that few of thy many lovely daughters are of this 
unhappy sisterhood. Long may the counsels of 
thy matrons live in the hearts of their fair posterity! 

" What do you think you most need ? What do 
you most earnestly desire ?" 

" God's mercy. 1 " 

The course of conversation need not be rehears- 
ed. What could I preach but Jesus Christ? Ex- 
hausted, I ceased to speak ; but listened to the whis- 
pers of an aged woman, (that is, to one of thirty 
years, perhaps,) who was blasted, almost to death. 
Once she thought herself converted ; then she fell 
from grace, and continued an abandoned character 
until within a year, when she hopes God converted 
her again. Since that time, her prayers and de- 
sires have been to God, that he would have compas- 



THE MEDIATOR NECESSARY. 121 

sion on her soul. Perhaps the Lord has once con- 
verted her. If He has, it will suffice* Have mer- 
cy, O Lord, on the thousands of the poor ! Make 
them rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom of 
God. 

March 15 th. 

THIS morning I revisited the patients of the last 
evening. Their symptoms are the same as they 
then were. The sleeping girl with difficulty can be 
roused. Miss S. S. T. wishes still, that God would 
" raise her from her bed of sickness, or take her to 
himself." It is almost impossible to convince her^ 
that something is requisite to be done for her justifi- 
cation and sanctification, before the holy God can 
take her to himself. She seems to think, that by a 
sovereign act, God will take her to himself, and 
make her happy, since he can, in her opinion, par- 
don sinners, without the interference of the Medi- 
ator* 

The sovereignty of Jehovah is not independent of 
his veracity, justice, and other attributes. He has 
solemnly declared, that all sin shall be punished ; 
and he cannot fail of visiting every crime, with ade- 
quate vengeance, either upon the sinner or his sub- 
stitute, any more than he can prove false to his 
own word. No part of the moral law ever was, or 
ever will be dispensed with. All its penalties shall 
be inflicted, and all its rewards conferred. Every 
crime either has been, or shall be, punished ; and 
every act of obedience shall be rewarded. 

L 



122 SANCTIFICATION REQUISITE. 

With reverence we assert, that so far as we know 
any thing upon this subject, from revelation, God 
could not have remitted a single offence against his 
law, without an adequate atonement, any more than 
he could lie, or subvert that rule by which he had 
determined to govern mankind. Take away this 
foundation of the divine government of moral crea- 
tures, that " all vice shall be punished, and all virtue 
rewarded," and what remains for our admiration ; 
or what assurance have we, that the Judge of all the 
earth will do right ? If God might, by a sovereign 
act, without any atonement, without a full punish- 
ment, remit one sin, he might every sin, and the 
whole human race might transgress with impunity, 
and be saved without a Saviour. 

Equally impossible would it be, without counter- 
acting the established course of cause and effect in 
the moral world, to make an unsanctified person 
happy in the presence of Jehovah, in the place of 
his peculiar residence. Before the polluted can en- 
joy holy society, and heavenly employment, their 
views, sensations, volitions, purposes, desires, and 
passions must be changed. From the nature of the 
case, without holiness, no man can see God with sat- 
isfaction. Fallen Adam, had he been in the pre- 
sence chamber above, would have desired some re- 
cess, in which he might have hidden himself from 
the Lord : and we sinners, were not the sensations 
of shame superseded by love, should, in heaven, cry 
out for rocks and mountains to cover us. 



THE GOD OF THE DEIST. 123 

Dead, then,t>e my heart to the god of the Deist ; 
who, upon the principles of reason and equity, can 
never forgive, but must make every offender as 
miserable as he is sinful : and for ever blasted be 
the hope of felicity, without sanctification. Let me 
come before the covenant God, the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost, who is the only God that can 
save persons who have defied his justice, and con- 
temned his mercy ; and may others be led to him, 
for eternal life. An absolute God, the God of 
the Deists, a God not in covenant for man's redemp- 
tion, is not the true God, but an idol of the 
philosophical mind, or a phantom of the mad imagi- 
nation.* 

* In the 52d page of the Rev. Gardiner Spring's ESSAYS, 
the reader will find a sneer at this doctrine. Does not every 
Deist regard God as an " absolute God" ? And is not this the 
principal difference between the views of a Deist and a Chris- 
tian, that the former believes in an absolute Deity, who can 
forgive by a sovereign act, without any atonement ; while the 
latter believes in God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, who 
is a covenant God? The persons who pretend to worship God, 
without any regard to the covenant of redemption, and the 
mercy of Jehovah, t( have left revelation, and have invented 
to themselves as empty an idol as any heathen philosopher 
ever worshipped. They have rejected the godhead of Christ 9 
and of the Holy Spirit, and have imagined to themselves a 
god existing in one person, infinitely extended, filling infinite 
space, with'many other such like chimerical attributes. And 
this idol, this nothing-in-the -world, is become the fashionable 
divinity of our times; but its worshippers are all traitors, 
Every act of worship paid to this idol, is high treason ; for by 
such act men withdraw their allegiance from the true God, 
and pay it to what has no more divinity than stocks and 






124 A REEORMEEr FEMALES 

To the true God I attempted to lead the dying 
sinner, that, falling before his mercy-seat, she might 
ask for pardon and purity, justification and glory. 

On my departure from the Almshouse, I met, in 
the street, a young girl, in fine health and neat at^ 
tire, who very politely accosted me, and inquired 
after my welfare. " Ah ! how do you do? Where 
do you live, now V y 

" I am well, Sir," she replied," and live in Green-* 
wich- street ; in a good family." 

" I am glad to hear that you are in such a situa^ 
tion. Remember the past : fear God ; and may he 
keep you. Good morning. " 

About one year since, this young woman left the 
Almshouse, where for many months she listened to 
the word of God. Verily I beMeve it has made her 
better ; for neither her air, nor her attire, nor her 

cheerful countenance, is now that which it once 

was. 

They were making beds, and cleaning the rooms, 
where I visited* Oh, what a vile place ! I would 
prefer to take a night's lodging in the dead-house of 
the Hospital, for there the air is comparatively pure. 
Every word which I uttered, seemed to swell the 
pain which has a dwelling in my lungs. I never felt 
any pain from preaching in the largest churches $ 
but I must now drop my pen, and perhaps soon my 

stones." Thus wrote the learned William Romaine, 
whose works, were they more generally read, might prevent 
many jejune publications ; and silence all who accuse them, 
«f Antinomianism, 



A WIDOW INDEED. 125 

ministrations to the people of these dismal cham- 
bers. May some benevolent person consent to take 
a seasoning, after my departure ! 

vwwwvw 

March 16th. 

" With virtue, prudence fled j what Shore possess'd 
Was sold, was spent, and he was now distress'd ; 
And want, unwelcome stranger, pale and wan, 
Met, with her haggard looks, the hurried man j 
His pride felt keenly, what he must expect 
From useless pity, and from, cold neglect." 

Crabbe. 

NOT much unlike the fascinating, licentious Ed- 
ward Shore, was the last husband of Mrs. M*** # ; 
of whom I have promised the reader some further 
particulars. She is generally deemed a widow, and 
answers to the scriptural description of one, if any 
person be a widow, whose husband lives, but is dead 
to her, and dead to shame. She is industrious, en- 
terprising, and affectionate : and her own sorrows 
have taught her how to sympathize with the afflict- 
ed poor. 

It gives me pleasure to be able to present the 
reac 1 :r with a picture of herself, drawn by her own 
hand, without any suspicion that it would be made 
public. It is contained in a letter to me, which is 
dated, 

" Monday evening, March 15, 1813. 

" You may think it strange, that you so often see 
my face with you in the Almshouse. It is because 
the good of souls lies near my heart. Since I have 
L2 









126 

been in the habit of going, and witnessing your ta.^ 
hours of love, I do not know how to be absent. I 
sometimes feel as if I could spend and be spent in 
the cause. How often is my soul drawn out in sup- 
plications for them, and on your behalf ! that the 
Lord may strengthen you, comfort you, and sup- 
port you, in all these trying scenes ; that the word 
may be blessed to the salvation of their never-dying 
souls ', that you may have many souls from among 
them, which shall prove as stars in your crown, in 
the day of rejoicing. Surely it. must be special 
grace, andthe good of souls, that induced you to 
this work.* You shall in no wise lose your reward. 

u I find from every sermon I hear, (not that I 
would wish to flatter you ; far from it !) that I am 
more unwilling to be deprived of the next. It is as 
great a cross as to lose one of Dr. Romeyn's ser- 
mons. I was in the Almshouse to-day, to adminis- 
ter to some of those- that we saw last evening, and 
some that we did not see ; i hope to the necessities 
of the saints; but I found you had been there be- 
fore me. You cannot think how much they love _. 
you. I heard several say that they loved the ground 
on which you walked ; and they seemed to be dis- 
posed to bless God for sending you there, to pro= 
claim the Gospel of Peace to them. 

" It has pleased the Lord to bid me drink deep of 
she cup of affliction ;. but I have reason to bless him 

* The author does not blush to record the words of the 
amiable letter- winter, because they praise; not the preacher* 
but the Spirit of grace. 



EM'STLEi 1271 

for all his dealings towards unworthy me. May I 
bless the hand wherewith I have been chastised. I? 
have been through the deep waters, but they have: 
not overflown me : through the fires, but have not- 
been burnt. May they prove as the refiner's fire a - 
I can testify, the Lord* has been with me in sias* 
troubles, and in seven he has not left me. 

'i God moves in a mysterious way 9 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm," 

" I have, for some wise end, tasted of almost every 
bitter herb. Sometimes I have thought, that my 
garden was almost overgrown with rue, which had 
subdued patience ; but each trying dispensation o£ 
Providence was short; just long enough to make, 
me know how to sympathize with others; except 
one that will never be erased from my memory ; . 
which was the loss of one of the most tender and 
affectionate companions.* My heart still bleeds. 

" For several months, not a day passed but I was 
at the grave, and desired nothing so much, as to die 
there. Whole days I would spend at the distance 
of half a mile from any house, in a lonesome wood, 
by the side of a murmuring stream, a little below a. 
rapid fall, the noise of which seemed to mourn with 
rae. Hither I would steal away, unnoticed by any 
one, for fear of being detected, that I might give 

* She undoubtedly refers, in this place, to the death of the 
husband of her youth. 



128 



PRAYER ANSWERED. 



full vent to my grief. Often I there sat, until I 
thought I should never again see the face of man ; 
but am still in the land of the living, a monument of 
sovereign mercy. I was then two hundred miles 
from all my friends, ' according to the flesh ;' but I 
had a friend, ' that sticketh closer than a brother, 1 
or I should have been cut off in my sinful grief. 

" My idol ! my idol ! How often did I pray, that 
every idol might be taken from me. Little did I 
think what it was, until it was taken. To use the 
language of the orphan, 

* 4 My hardships since, I will not tell ; 
But now no more — ," 

41 May my most ardent desire be, to be ever found 
in the path of duty. If I know my own heart, this 
is my sincere prayer. 

" I can say with Paul, I know what it is to abound, 
and to suffer need ; and sometimes I think I have 
learned, in whatsoever situation I am, to be content- 
ed. But again, when I meet with crosses, I find .. 
the flesh warring against the spirit, so that when I 
would do good, evil is present with me. I desire 
to thank God, that in all my trials and afflictions, I 
have been enabled to flee unto the Lord as a refuge ;.. 
and have found him a very present help in time of 
trouble, and better than all my fears. I have often 
wondered what my unprofitable life was spared for; 
but now I see it is, in part, to sympathize with 
others. A kind word, nay, even a kind look, often 
comforts the afflicted. There is scarcely a trying 



A WORD IN SEASON. 129 

dispensation in Iff®, in. which. I cannot partake with 
the sufferer. 

" Sir, I must tell you how much I was profited by 
your conversation, about two years since. I shall 
ever think it was ordered, by an all-wise Provi- 
dence, directly for me, although no person in the 
room, at that time, had any idea of my trial. I went 
from home with a direct view of asking advice on a 
particular subject. My heart was filled with anxi- 
ety, for fear that my proposals would not meet with 
the approbation of my friends ; but my mind was 
entirely set at liberty, without even mentioning my 
errand. Your words were to me like apples of 
gold, in pictures.of silver : for the same I shall have 
reason to bless God, and so will, one of my children^ 
through life*. \ How. forcible are right words •!' 

" Oh, Sir, how was I agitated when I first began 
to visit the Almshouse. The poor were before my 
eyes, night and day. For nine nights in succes- 
sion, my mind was continually on them, supplica- 
ting a blessing on them, and on your labours among 
them ; or in assisting and providing means for their 
relief. In all that time I had not an hour of sweet 
sleep.* 

" H. C. M****."'- 

* Her kind attentions to the most miserable, were continu- 
ed, until nature, exhausted, was unable to second the efforts 
of her will. She was visited by a severe sickness, in which 
she displayed a cheerful resignation to the divine pleasure, 
and even a Christian anticipation of death. Her children s 
whom she tenderly loves, were committed by her to the. 



£30 THE PURIFYING EFFICACY 

• 

March ITth. 

tWhat'er thy lot— whoe'er thou be— 
Confess thy folly— kiss the rod, 
And in thy chastening 1 sorrows see 

The hand of Go* 

** A bruised reed he will not break ; 

Afflictions all his children feel ; 

He wounds them. for his mercy's sake, 

He wounds to heal !'* 

Montgomery. 

MY usual services were rendered in the Alms- 
house this evening ; and I find the poor as attentive, 
and as anxious to have their turn come in the rotation 
of rooms, as when I first took the particular charge 
of them. Many seem to have been thoroughly re- 
formed in their lives ; and indicate a spirit of purity, 
instead of that polluted nest of devils which was 
lately lodged securely in their bosoms. The cleans- 
ing efficacy of the word of God extends from the 
inner to the outward man ; and hence, some, who 

Father of the fatherless ; and had she departed, she would 
now have been in glory ; but the Lord restored her to new 
scenes of labour. No sooner could she leave her house, than 
she renewed her visits to the Almshouse, to cool the parched 
mouths of many dying daughters of dissipation, many victims 
to sinful pleasure; while she preached Christ, the only con- 
solation of sinners, with the tenderness of a sister. 

Her preaching, however, was no contravention of the 
apostle Paul's authority, neither did she disregard his decla- 
ration, that he did not suffer a woman to speak in the Church, 
nor usurp authority over the man ; (1 Tim. ii. 12.) for she 
communicated her instt'uctions to ker own sex j and some- 



OT THE GOSPEL, 131 

rre habitually filthy, no longer offend the eye of 
delicacy. 

Religion certainly predisposes the mind which it 
occupies, to enjoy, and consequently pursue, what- 
soever things are pure, lovely, and ol good fame ; 
and those objects need only to be perceived, in or- 
der to be loved by the renewed soul. 

It renders loathsome " the garment spotted by 
the flesh." 

Miss S. S. T. is still alive, and is now more soli- 
citous to obtain religious instruction than any per- 
son of my acquaintance. Perhaps she may know, 
spiritually, and experimentally, the true God, and 
Jesus Christ, whom to know is life eternal, before 
she departs from this world. Her spiritual case 
brightens. 

Mrs. X. Y. and O'M — , listened to the word of 
God, from their beds of sickness. Mrs. V — , from 
the cellar, sent an urgent message to me. She 
wanted nothing but a few words about Jesus, and a 
prayer. The room was so full of smoke and putrid 

times, kneeling down beside the bed of a poor wretch, pray- 
ed for the departing soul. The ladies may teach as Priscilla 
did, (Acts xviii 26.) and it would be well for the Church, if 
some well indoctrinated matrons, who have long rejoiced in 
the personal atonement by Jesus Christ, appropriated by faith* 
would take unto them several young and eloquent preachers, 
who have more versatile theory than theology, and expound 
unto them the way of God more perfectly. 

Every person, who has received the truth, is bound to pro- 
mulgate it, according to his ability, and the opportunities 
which Providence may afford 



132 DEGREES IN GRACE. 

breath, that I could scarcely utter a word. She said 
again, " Sometimes I fear I am impatient ; but he 
chasteneth every child whom he receives ; and I 
say, ' Lord, if I am a child, do as thou wilt with 
me.' " 

Certainly the writer would want more grace than 
he possesses at the present time, to render him pa- 
tient in her situation. Constitution and circumstan- 
ces demand an appropriate supply of divine assist- 
ance, to produce the meekness and submission of 
the christian character. I am of the opinion of my 
much esteemed, and reverend friend, Dr. M****, 
" that the same degree of grace which would have 
made John resemble an angel, would scarcely have 
kept Peter from knocking a man down." 

What consolation have believers in the example of 
him, who " was in all points tempted like ^is we 
are," and in the promise of Almighty God, that be 
will not suffer us to be tempted above what we can 
endure ; but will, with the temptation, also make a 
way to escape, that we may be able to bear it ! Heb« 
iv. 15. &? 1 Con x. 13. He will supply our need in 
the time of need, and not previously ; for no pas- 
sage of the Bible warrants us to believe that the Dis- 
penser of grace, mercy, and peace ever gives anyone 
of his creatures a capital stock, to be at his own dis- 
posal. We may hew out cisterns, but they will hold 
no water. God in Christ is the fountain, and 
streams of consolation will be derived from it, as 
the exigencies of his plants may require. There is 
but one fountain in the whole garden of the 



DOMESTIC GOVERNMENT. 133 

Lord. Believers are trees of righteousness, of the 
Lord's planting, and he will water *them daily. 
Let this everlasting fountain send forth life-giving 
streams ; and may we flourish beside them. 

iwwwvv\ 

March 18th. 

"Train up a child in the way he should go." Prov. xxii. 6. 
'« Ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath : but 

bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the 

Lord.*' JSphesians, vi.4 

HAVING made no promises, either to the pur- 
chaser, or to the reader, of this volume, the author 
feels himself at liberty to relate a few anecdotes, 
which do not peculiarly regard the poor. They 
will probably be useful to some, in all classes of so- 
ciety, who may peruse them, and especially to pa- 
rents, for they relate to domestic government. 

Yesterday I beheld, from my casement, a father 
correcting his son. The lad, of about thirteen years, 
is an impertinent fellow, and the discipline, which he 
has received, has been well calculated to make him 
so. The father was displeased with his conduct, 
and began to cuff him in a furious manner. The 
young rogue ran from his inflamed castigator. The 
father caught him by the ear and pinched it se- 
verely, but the boy escaped out of the door of the 
shop, and closed the door, with violence, upon the 
arm, which was obliged to relinquish its grasp. 

What sort of discipline was this I The boy stood 
feare-headed, in the rain, beside the house, inward- 
M 



134 SOME ANECDOTES 

ly cursing his father, and occasionally looking into 
the window, to ascertain if he might with safety re- 
turn. It would have been far better not to have 
corrected the child : for soon the father cries, 
" Here, Sam, go and get some change," and then 
all is past, except the boy's resentment. I have 
seen the same gentleman step out of his door, and 
call his younger children in from the streets. They 
run the gauntlet so soon as they obey him, for he is 
sure to stand sentinel, as they pass, and give them a 
kicking, cuffing, or pinching. 

This reminds me of the family government of a 
very wrathful man, in the town of my nativity. One 
of his boys, Ichabod, called his brother John a dog. 
John complained to his father of this abusive lan- 
guage, who ran to the door, and in fury exclaim- 
ed, "Come here, Ichabod, you puppy you ! What ! 
call your brother John a dog I I'll teach you; ye 
puppy, you !" 

Such parental government is very common. Are 
you in a passion ? Desist until you are cool ; inflict 
punishment from judgment, and let your children 
know, that all their attempts to escape from your 
hands are but aggravations of their misconduct. If 
you are passionate in correction, you teach them to 
be turbulent and ungovernable. So soon as the 
subjects of such government acquire sufficient ani- 
mal force, they may be expected to become masters. 
Yes, parents who attempt to correct their children 
in rage may expect resistance, and it will be well 



OF FAMILY DISCIPLINE. 135 

for them if the scene which I am now to describe 
shall not be acted over again. 

A young man, who resided in a town at no great 
distance from this city, entered into a dispute with 
his aged father. The contest became warm, and 
the son, seizing the hoary locks of his sire, dragged 
him violently to the door* 

" Stop ! stop ! my son," said the feeble old man, 
" for I am sufficiently punished : the judgments of 
God are just ; for in the same manner I once drag- 
ged my old father to this very threshold ; and your 
son may treat you, as you now treat me." His vio- 
lent dealing 1 had now come down on his own pate; 
and he experienced the cruelty from a son which he 
had exercised towards a parent. 

March 20th. 

THIS morning the writer was requested to visit 
the Hospital, that he might warn a young man of 
the rapid approach of death. For two years the 
dying patient has been afflicted with the curse of 
lust. He took the disease in Europe, and had 
some of the best of medical aid there j but it was 
ineffectual. For more than a year he has been in 
his present situation, and all the skill of the best 
physicians in this city has not been able to expel 
the poison. 

Young men, and you who come from the country, 
especially, do not credit those lying professions of 
remedy " WITHOUT MERCURY," which you 



A 



136 A SOLEMN ADMONITION. 

find posted at the corners of the streets. They are 
nothing but accursed encouragements to vice. The 
quacks delude you. It is not an easy thing to cure 
you of the contamination of a single touch. In 
thousands of instances, all the efforts of the medical 
faculty cannot preserve the life of the polluted mor- 
tal. The youth whom I have just visited, has re- 
putable connexions in this city, and if the quacks, or 
the regularly bred physicians, could avail any thing, 
I had not been compelled to warn him of his un- 
timely death. Until to-day he has had no serious 
thoughts of dying ; but I found him in a state of 
putrefaction. His flesh is falling off from his bones, 
and his bed-clothing exhibited a horrible spectacle. 

In the plainest manner I told him, that he must 
depart this life in a few days, or perhaps in a few 
hours. He seemed like one smitten by the thunder 
of heaven. He has been gay, and thoughtless : has 
wandered after many phantoms of pleasure ; but 
now death grasps him ; and what will be his eternity 
none can predict. Christ was solemnly proffered, 
with all his saving benefits. As an ambassador 
from God, I offered him peace and eternal life ; but 
the Holy Ghost alone can constrain him to accept of 
the righteousness of Him, who is the end of the 
Jaw, 

Six rooms were visited, and some religious tracts 
left in each. I was surprised to find one young man 
gone to the eternal world, whom I attempted lately 
to convince of the danger of his situation. He had 
the consumption, but his face was full, and he said, 



THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. 137 

a short time before his death, that he did not con- 
sider himself in any danger of speedy dissolution, 
He saw six or seven persons die in the same ward 
in which he lay, but did not lay it to heart. He 
died in the expectation of recovery. 

H O'N — 1 still lives, and gives me good evi- 
dence that he has become a spiritual member of the 
truly catholic churchy which contains all men, em- 
bodied or disembodied, who believe with the heart 
in the Lord Jesus Christ. Peace be to this catholic 
church. They shall prosper that love her welfare 
Peace, peace be to Zion. 

vwwvvw 

March 21s£. 

BEWARE ! beware, thou tempted youth, forthe 
curse of the bitter water will come upon thee. The 
Lord will " make thee a curse, and an oath among 
thy people, when the Lord doth make thy thigh to 
rot." This judgment I have seen come upon many, 
without the solemn denunciation from a minister of 
religion. The young man, whom I visited yester- 
day, was actually plagued as one whom the Lord 
proved guilty, according to the Mosaic law. Con- 
sult Numbers, v. chap. 20, 21, 22. To-day he was 
removed from the Hospital, that he might die with 
his friends. 

In the evening, I preached in the Almshouse to 

fifty-six prostitutes, who were on their beds, besides 

a large company of widows, feeble old men, and 

blind persons, My text was the declaration, and 

m2 



' 



238 NEITHER DO I JUDGE THEE J 

exhortation 'of Jesus, " Neither do I condemn thee j 
go and s$in no more." 

For once at least, I think my discourse was adapt- 
ed to my audience, and many appeared to receive it 
as I could have wished all might have done. No 
sooner had I commenced, however, than I was dis- 
turbed by conversation in the adjoining room, which 
contained twenty of the miserable ones. With the 
candle in one hand, and the Bible in the other, I 
marched from my table to a position from which I 
could have a view of my hearers in both rooms. It 
had the desired effect, and in this situation I held up 
the light of divine truth to them. The candle of the 
Lord, I trust, shone upon me, and irradiated my 
message with a divine lustre. 

After sermon I turned to the dying female from 
Connecticut, of whom I have written, under date 
of the 14th of March ; and to whose whispers 
I have thrice listened. She seems to be a believer. 
Indeed I think God has, once for all, renewed her j 
but at what moment, perhaps, no mortal can say. 

When the writer was leaving the room, he was 
called back, to speak to M-*— M— , the tall and slen- 
der country girl, whom I have styled modest ; for if 
this virtue of the mind, modesty, can ever be re- 
gained after it has been lost, I think it has been in 
this instance. She was weeping, and wanted con- 
solation ; but much of that consolation, for this life, 
which is desirable, I could not give. She is afflict- 
ed with a sore throat and mouth. She can scarcely 
taste any of the food allowed her, and must assc- 



GO, AND SIN NO MORE. 139 

elate with the vilest of her sex, during the remain-- 
der of her life. The effects of the mercury alone 
remain in her system ; but her cure is but a protract- 
ed death. Her chief concern is for her soul, and the 
sermon convinced her, that Christ is both able, and 
willing, to save her. 

44 lam still" said she, 44 so great a sinner , that I 
dare hardly hope in his mercy" 

She wishes that something could be done for her 
temporal relief, and spoke again of the Magdalen 
Society. She was again informed, that their funds, 
and regulations, would not admit of their receiving 
sick persons. 

44 Alas I Sir" she replied, with tears, and a coun- 
tenance over which despair brooded, u that is what 
discourages me" 

44 Is your mother unable to assist you \" 

44 Not absolutely unable, and I believe she would 
do it, zvere it not for some of our friends and rela- 
tions, who reject me, and dissuade her" 

44 Those are indeed miserable sinners, who need 
pardon through the blood of Ghristj but who canu 
never forgive a fallen relative/' 

" I. have lately heard from my mother, after a long 
time ; but her letter is very cold; it kills me," 

Here comes the maternal letter. See how the 
mother can become obdurate, and her soft bosom 
adamant, to the bleeding heart of a seduced daughter* 

"Richfeld, Feb. 23d, 1815. 
44 My dear, unfortunate child, I received your let- 
ter of the l&thj and was very happy to hear from 









140 COLD CONSOLATION".^ 

you. Your letter informed me that you was out of 
health, but I learn from the lines you wrote, that 
you have friends abroad, although a stranger, which 
contribute to your relief; and I wish it was in my 
power to help you. I would inform you that I have 
heard from Dunican and his wife, and they were 
well. Chancy has been very sick, but has recover- 
ed his health again, and is cleared from the army, 
Amos has returned to his farm again. Anis re- 
mains at her father's, and will the remainder of the 
season. I have nothing more to write you in par- 
ticular ; but I would inform you, that your uncle 
Latham's family is well, at present : likewise your 
uncle Chase and the family. I have kissed the 
children agreeable- to your request. I am well at 
present myself, and hope that these lines may find 
you, as they leave me, and it would relieve the sor- 
rows of a grateful heart. This is from your dear° 
est friend, 

"L— M— , 
« M— M." 

Among so many friends, cannot one be found of 
a tender heart ? No, they cannot forgive and conv 
passionate. M — expected some kind assurances 
of assistance from her " dearest friend," but the 
letter has proved cold comfort, not worth the seven- 
teen cents postage, whicb she was obliged to pa)'. . 

Miss S. S. T. I believe has been visited this even- 
ing for the last time. Her misery is very great, and 
she seems to think, that it must be happiness to die. 
When I asked her for what she desired me to pray, 
she answered^ " that God would pardon me, and 



INFANT BAPTISM. 141 

take me to himself, if he pleases, very soon. I do 
pray that he would take me to himself." 

In the square ward, I was requested to baptize 
an infant, but I declined. The mother expected it 
would die, and felt a very common, but very foolish 
apprehension^ that if the babe died before baptism it 
-must perish. It was stated to her, that baptism is a 
sign and seal of God*s gracious covenant, which is 
designed to signify to all believers, and particularly 
to the assembled church, this truth, that by the 
sprinkling of the blood of Jesus, and the washing of 
regeneration, God's people shall be saved. The 
outward ordinance cannot save any one. If you 
were a member of any church, and your minister 
should request me to do it, or if you were now to 
make a credible profession of saving faith in Jesus 
Christ, I would baptize the child. You cannot 
give your child to God, without first giving your- 
self to him, and if you do not truly believe in the 
Lord Jesus, on your part a profession would be 
all mockery. But, although I cannot baptize the 
child, yet, in the name of Jesus, I will bless it. 

The writer, therefore, prayed for the mother and 
infant, to that Saviour who received little ones, put 
his hands on them and blessed them ; after which, 
he solemnly pronounced this benediction : " The 
Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners, bless thee, 
sanctify thee, and keep thee. His blessing rest 
upon thee in life, and in death ; in time, and eter- 
nity. Amen." Such a benediction I would solemn- 
ly pronounce over the head of any child, which 
should be professedly given to God j and cannot 



142 AN UNFORTUNATE MOTHER. 

but think the blessing of infants a very significant 
act of social worship. 

The writer prayed with another dying woman in 
another room, whose tears flowed apace, and who 
desired to know something about the way of salva- 
tion by Jesus Christ. Exhausted, and almost wild 
with the misery of others, which he cannot relieve-, 
he must say, " Reader, imagine the rest." 



rW\>/VWV* 



March 23d. 



** Confessing by his downcast eye, 
The wrong he sought to justify. 
He ceased. A moment mute she gazed, 
And then her looks to heaven she raised ; 
One palm her temples veiled, to hide 
The tear that sprung in spite of pride ; . 
The other for an instant pressed 
The foldings of her silken vest I" 

Bridal of Triermaijt. 

THIS afternoon I visited five wards in the Alms- 
house. But some whom I sought were not. The 
person of whom I have written in the conclusion of 
the preceding article, has been, as the world says, to 
describe a nameless character, a no better than she 
should have been." Again and again she expressed 
her gratitude for a very little attention. " It is the 
best thing she can do," said the nurse, a very de- 
cent Episcopalian, " to make up her mind to die, 
for she cannot live." 

" Some, however," the writer replied, " do not 
suake up their minds calmly to submit to that which 



THE WOMAN OF A GOOD HEART, 143 

they cannot possibly avoid. It would be well if all 
were prepared for death, which is inevitable." 

"Well, pray, Sir," continued the nurse, "when 
are ye coming to preach in this room again P J hope 
ye will come soon, for now we've got rid of that very 
excellent Christian. J was quite mad at her" 

" Do you intend the woman who insisted on hav- 
ing always possessed a good heart ?" 

" Tes, Sir, she would stick to it so obstinately, and 
didn't like your preaching, she was so good" 

" You should pray for her, and pity her, instead 
of being vexed with her, on account of her igno- 
rance, and obstinacy. Many are thus blind, and 
perish without the knowledge of themselves." 

" Ay i but she was so good, arid good for no- 
thing! But I hope your honour won't forget to 
preach in this room very soon again''' 

" I will remember your room in turn." 

To the half-crazy Scotch-Irish woman, of whom 
the reader has some account under the date of the 
21st of February, I said, " You have punctually at- 
tended public worship of late ; and I was pleased t© 
see you attentive*" 

" Tes, Sir, I'm never afraid to hear you, now. 
I'd almost as soon hear ye, do ye see, as Dr. M^Lecd 9 
for you are aboot as soond as he" 

" All of you Scotch people, whom I know here, 
appear to have more information than the other in- 
habitants of the place, I fear you all know much 
better than you do." 

" Tes, Sir, and I think that a Gospel sinner is one 
of the worst of sinners" 






144 THE MEMORY OF THE BLIND. 

" See that it prove not the aggravation of your 
condemnation, that you know your Master's will, 
and do it not." 

In the same room was W — R — , the blind boy, 
famous for his memory. 

" It seems you have come on a visit, William." 

" Tea*. Sir* to see my mother" 

She is a poor woman, who was seated beside him. 

" You must repeat to me, again, the hymn which 
you repeated on the Sabbath evening." 

" Well, Sir, Vm laming the hymn which you 
composed" 

" Ay ? who is teaching you ? None of you have 
ever had a copy." 

" George is laming it to me, and I shall say it" 

Soon after I went into another room, where 
George was seated, at a little tea-table, with a pious 
woman. 

" George, William says, that you are teaching him 
a hymn." 

" I have lamed it to him already. He can say iu 
He'll lam a thing in two minutes." 

" Now tell me, truly, how long it took him to 
learn those five stanzas." 

" Well, Sir, it was not more than ten minutes*, at 
most.* 9 

"And I have just lamed George," said Mrs. B— *r, 
the pious woman, who can scarcely move, "two 
hymns since he's been sitting here. But George is 
very sad." 

" Ay J and so we all are" cried blind Sally. 



TRUTH IS PRECIOUS. 145 

a What's the matter with you, now ?" I demand- 
ed. 

" Why, they say that you are going to leave us y 
and we can't think of it* We have esteemed your 
preaching, the highest favour ■•" 

" Tes, yes,'' 9 cried another blind woman, " your 
preaching has been the greatest comfort to us" 

" Should I go from you, I hope you will have a 
better preacher." 

" Ah! but then. Sir" exclaimed a blind man, 
from behind his ragged curtain, " I know we sha'n't? 
but if we do, it wo'n't be you" 

Flattering as their compliments were, I could not 
bear them, because the poor blind were really dis- 
tressed ; but I repeat them as a proof, that these 
paupers are capable of esteeming a person very high- 
ly in love, for the sake of the Gospel. 

In the room in which I preached on the evening 
of the 21st of the present month, I said to a lost fe- 
male, (lost for this life ! not for eternity,) who is al- 
most gone, u perhaps you thought ray sermon too 
severe : but I thought it necessary." 

She answered, in the. accents of dissolution, with 
eyes directed to heaven, f* It was the truth, and no- 
thiiig but the truth" 

Some of the bounty of my unknown Burlington 
friend, I distributed, as I have done on many for- 
mer occasions, to similar objects, that the parched 
tongues of some destitute, and dying females, may 
be moistened with something suitable for sick per- 
sons. 

•N 



146 RIPENING FOR THE HARVEST. 

The aged G — H — I found still complaining of 
herself, and sobbing out her petitions, that God 
would give her a new heart, and renew a right spirit 
within her. 

" Oh / for faithy and patience /" she exclaimed, 
"for I fear that I do not believe in him, and trust 
him. Dear gentleman, you belong' to a blessed God* 
0, 1 wish that I belonged to him; and that he xuould 
dwell in me J" 

" I have as much evidence that you do believe in 
God, and trust in Christ, as I have that any one hun- 
gers and thirsts after righteousness." 

While this woman thinks that she has no evi- 
dence of being in a gracious state, she gives the most 
satisfactory evidence to others, that she is a child of 
God. She is growing in humility ; and her fellow- 
Christians can perceive, what at present is hidden 
from her eyes, that she is ripening for the harvest. 

Her native disposition to peevishness, however, 
through which, as a mist, grace shines, is the chief 
obstruction to her usefulness and comfort. By na- 
ture, she is a thorn tree; but^ascion of good has 
been inserted, which will soon overshadow the ori- 
ginal branches, and cause them to wither. 

<VWW\'Wl 

March 24th. 

BLIND Donally I could not find this evening. 
She has gone to a better world. 

The black people, in the cellar, appeared thankful 
for some instruction, and for the opportunity of uni- 
ting in prayer. 



AFFLICTION AND THANKFULNESS. 147 

Mrs. V — , in the cellar, remains in the same state 
of body and mind. 

" You seem more thankful," I said, " than almost 
any person in affluence." She replied, " If I were 
not poor and afflicted, I might not be thankful" 

Truly God often humbles those whom he makes 
most grateful ! 

In three rooms of unfortunate females, I prayed, 
and particularly with two of them, who must depart 
soon. 

M— B — , well known to the readers of my for- 
mer Journal, said, with much dejection, " What 
have 1 done , Sir, that you should have deserted me of 
late P4 

" Nothing ! Nothing ! You need not weep : but 
you cannot expect me to visit you every time I 
come to the house, when multitudes equally need 
attention." Very soon she will need no more 
counsel. 

vwvvvvw 

March 25th. 
ONE young man, H— H — , who I thought 
would recover his health, after having been afflicted 
with the spotted fever, will probably die of the con- 
sumption. If the effusion of serum into the thorax 
does not produce immediate death, it is apt to leave 
the lungs in a state of inflammation, or of ulcera- 
tion ; so that very few have escaped, who have been 
sick of this malignant enemy of our race. The 
young man converses calmly ; but is much distress- 
ed at the apprehension of death. 



148 THL SPOTTED FEVER. 

In No. 3, of the Hospital, I prayed with another 
young man, who is dangerously ill of the same fe- 
ver. He tumbled about, and gasped frequently; 
but when suitable petitions were suggested to him, I 
could perceive, by the motion of his lips, that he re- 
peated them to himself. May God teach him to 
pray. 

I have been kindly favoured, to-day, with a docu- 
ment which must give additional interest to my 
Journal. A person who is now in the State's Prison 
of New- York, was permitted to purchase, and send 
to his wife, a book, entitled, " Tfo Domestic Chap- 
lain? of which the Rev. John Stanford is the 
author. In the blank leaf of the volume, he wrote 
the following 

INTERESTING LETTER. 

" Mrs. E— n, 

" You express a strong desire to become ac- 
quainted with the minute particulars relating to my 
present situation. At some future opportunity, I 
will endeavour to gratify a curiosity, which I believe 
to be prompted by an affectionate solicitude. At 
present, you must be contented with that subject 
which I presume most interests your feelings : I 
mean that of our religious privileges. 

" The author of this book is our only regularly 
attending minister. Others frequently preach to 
us ; but he takes upon himself the principal burden ; 
never fails to preach to us on the first Sabbath in 
the month, and frequently favours ijs at other times a 



LETTER TO A WIFE. 349 

" By adopting the volume I now send you, as a 
companion with your favourite Doddridge, you 
will not only become acquainted with the man, but 
will find an additional consolation in your afflicted 
state. 

" As I now calculate to settle in this city, for a 
few years at least, after I am liberated, you may, 
perhaps, enjoy the satisfaction of frequently hearing 
from his lips, those pious sentiments which you here 
read from his pen, 

"He is considerably advanced in years ; has a 
full, healthy countenance ; is about the middling 
size in stature, and somewhat corpulent. He has 
a grave and venerable appearance j his eyes are 
piercing, but soft, and benevolent ; and his whole 
visage bespeaks a strong, intelligent mind. When 
in the pulpit, Cowper would say, u There stands the 
legate of the skies ; his theme divine ; the messen- 
ger of God to men." Pope would equally speak 
*' Of truth divine, commended from his tongue." 

u His eloquence is of the most impressive kind ; 
and his matter, like his manner, always pertinent,, 
and calculated to reach the heart. 

" He is tender and compassionate, almost to a 
fault. Skilled in the woes of human life, he pities 
wretched man ! The whole soul of the hearer is ir- 
resistibly carried along with him, in his vividly fer- 
vent devotions. When he addresses himself to his 
God, in our behalf, my fancy paints my afflicted 
wife, and dear children, ranged in a group around 
him r anxiously waiting for that deliverance, and 
h3 



150 THE DYING VISITED. 

those tender embraces, which he so zealously im- 
plores. 

" With the most earnest solicitude for your pre- 
sent and future happiness, I remain, 

" Your affectionate husband, 

« A>^-. E— N." 

«wvvww\. 

March 28th, 

THE Lord's day is the most pleasant, although 
to me the most laborious, day of the week. 

In the morning, after my usual public services in 
the Hospital, I aroused H— H — from troubled 
slumbers. He opened his eyes, like one under the 
influence of fear. Alas ! he is afraid to die, and I 
could not but say to myself, " Must this young 
man, who lately enjoyed the beauty and vigour of 
early manhood, be cut down like the flower, and be 
withered before noon ?" Indeed, I prayed that God 
would spare him ; but more fervently, that God 
would prepare him for heaven. 

While preaching, I was more than commonly af- 
fected by the sight of a female of a respectable fami- 
ly, who, not long since, had a fair complexion, was 
of a full habit, and enjoyed excellent spirits. Once 
she could smile at my exhortations. Now she sat 
before me, pale and feeble. Her face, once fair and 
soft as the lily, is now full of large seams, which, 
should she live, would perpetuate her disgrace, But. 
she is not long for this life. She is withered, and 
was compelled, during, the sermon? to rest her 



A VARIETY OF HEARERS. 151 

drooping head upon the nearest support. Once her 
mends came for her, and carried her home ; but 
she would return to her pleasures, and to death. 

M — M — has also gained admittance to the 
Hospital once more, and if the physicians can cure 
her diseased throat, and make her whole system 
new, she may be well again. She paid strict atten- 
tion to the sermon, and had a dejected air, which is 
enough to make any one sad. 

Several captains constitute a part of my audience ;. 
and they, with the Superintendent and family, with 
the nurses, servants, and house physicians, make a 
very respectable company. 

In the Almshouse, soon after I commenced the 
first prayer, a sick man in the room was taken with 
a fit, and uttered tremendous screams. I was obli- 
ged to stop short, for a time, and command my 
frightened audience to keep their places. It was 
soon over, and the prayer was continued. After 
sermon I prayed in four different rooms, and Mr 
B — r visited I know not how many more. 

My aged friend, of many years, madam G — H — 9 
hates her heart as much as ever, and cries to God, 
day and night, to break, melt, and renew it, that she 
may feel, "for now" she says," I do not feel; I do 
not pray as I ought " 

An old woman, whom I have never recognized; 
before, sent fbr me. She is not very sick, but 
troubled in mind*. When she was reminded of this 
blessed truth,, that Ghrist died to procure the par- 
don of all our sins, she opened, her large eyes ? and 



152 POOR CHILDREN CATECHISED. 

said, " When I look on mine, they are very large, 
very great," \ 

Watts, as well as David, knew how to pray, The 
version of the fifty -first psalm, by the former, was 
repeated to her, and her tears descended like dew. 
If the believer's heart has any prayer interwoven 
with its texture, it is something like this : 

" Vet save a trembling sinner, Lord, 
Whose hope, still hov'ring round thy word, 
Would light on some sweet promise there, 
Some sure support against despair." 

March 30th. 

THIS afternoon I opened the catechetical instruct 
tion in the New- York Free-School, No. 2, with 
prayer ; and afterwards visited No. 1. In the two 
school-rooms, I saw not less than a thousand poor 
children, who are taught to read, and write, without 
any expense to their parents. About fifty ladies 
were present at the two places, among whom were 
the widow of General Hamilton ; the aged, benevo- 
lent, and even venerable Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Cald- 
well, Mrs. Coit, and Mrs. G. Brinkerhoff, with 
Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. J. P. Mumford, the Miss 
Murrays, and other ladies, single and married, 
whom I have not the pleasure of knowing. The 
ladies of different religious denominations, took 
charge of classes of children, who were baptized in 
the churches which they respectively frequent ; so 



A YOUNG MAN'S VISITORS. 15$ 

that each child was instructed in the form of ques- 
tions approved by the church of which the instruc- 
tress and the instructed were members. Before this 
association of ladies was formed, the children had 
no religious instruction. Now they are faithfully 
catechised weekly. In other cities let ladies of dis- 
tinction go and do likewise. If the labour will not 
honour them, let them dignify the employment, 

vwwvvw 

March 31st. 

*' The frantic wretch, while many a stream of blood 
Smokes from his wounds, and paints his coat of mail, 
Raves like the storm, that, thund'ring- down the vale, 
Wastes all beneath it with resistless flood." 

Obehon. 

THIS afternoon was devoted to the Hospital. 
While I was conversing with H — H — , who cannot 
long continue, two young ladies came in to see 
him. They were dressed rather gaudily,, and 
did not look sufficiently delicate to be his sisters. 
I addressed myself to him, and them, after which, 
with his consent, I prayed. The gay visitors were 
not a little moved. 

In the opposite room, a young man had just died 
of the spotted 'fever ', which was the text of my short 
sermon to the livings 

In the ward above, I conversed again with the 
aged Universalis!, and then put my hand to the 
head of a young soldier, that I might awake him, 
and exhort him to prepare for speedy death, \. 



154 FRIENDS UNREASONABLY AFRAID 

thought, by the spots of his countenance, that he 
must soon make his exit, and perhaps before I could 
see him again. His eyes were, quite yellow, and 
his breath offensive ; but I revealed my mind. It 
struck him with some consternation ; but when the 
house is in flames, and will soon be consumed, there 
is no time for the complaisant address, " please, Sir, 
to awake, for the house is burning, and you may 
perish." To cry, " fire ! fire ! awake !" is far more 
kind : and to alarm the sick is not so detrimental as 
many suppose. I warned him of hell ; exhibited 
the need of his repenting, and exhorted him to pray. 
He has put off his armour, and his military cap lies 
useless beside him. The warning cannot injure 
him ; and I have known a new, and powerful excite- 
ment to prove a cure, by what physicians call a 
translation of the disease.* 



* An instance I will relate* A Deacon of my acquaintance, 
(for such Deacons there are !) who is apparently as meek as 
Moses, and of a solemn, softly speech, is rich, and accustomed 
to shave notes* He loaned to a young man a large sum, which 
by an act of the State in which they live, against usury, was 
legally forfeited. The borrower gave ample security for the 
principal part of the loan ; but he was taken dangerously sick ; 
and the Deacon desired to get some mortgage for the remain- 
der. The Deacon called to see the man, when he was sup- 
posed to be near death. The nurse, according to the orders of 
the physicians, excluded all company. Once, and again, she 
refused to admit the Deacon ; but finally he pleaded that he 
should like to pray with the sick youth; and was admitted to his 
chamber. 



OF ALARMING THE SICK. 155 

In another ward a blind seaman, whose eyes ap- 
pear perfectly sound, was sick with a fever. I have 
for three months observed, that he was very atten- 
tive to my discourses ; and to-day he told me, with 
many tears, that my ministrations in the gospel had 
been of great service and consolation to him. He 
gives good evidence of a new, and tender heart. 
Directly opposite to his bed, a deaf person, who is 
very low, was uttering his groans. * He could not 
hear a word : but he keeps a small piece of slate, to 

No sooner had he taken his seat, than he began very mildly 
to say, " It is thought you may die, and I should be much 
obliged to you, if you would give me some security for my 
-snoney." 

" Oh ! Deacon, I can't do business noxv," said the sick man. 

" Why, if you don't secure me now, I may lose the whole, 
I should be glad if you would give me,— " 

" Oh I don't, don't, Deacon, disturb me; let me die in peace " 

In this manner he worried him, until he found he could gain 
nothing, when despairing he said, " Well, I will pray with 
you before I go." 

At this hypocrisy the sick man was so enraged, that he 
started up in bed, clenched his fists, and with an imprecation 
said, "■ '■ •■ — - , Deacon! get out of my sight." The 
Deacon fled. Soon after the physicians came, and found their 
patient manifestly better. His fever had passed the acme ; 
he was in that state of moisture, which they could not pro- 
duce ; but which the violent mental exertion, occasioned by 
the Deacon, had effected ; and from that time he recovered. 

Such cause for agitation as this I desire none may give ; but 
if the sick become anxious to prepare for death, instead of 
brooding over the fear that they must die, the new mental stimu- 
lus will do them good, for time and eternity. 



• 



156 THE CONTRAST. 

which is tied a pencil. I therefore wrote this ques- 
tion ; " are you a sinner ?" He can speak, and said, 
"a sinner! hum J all are sinners ; yes, I am a shi- 
ner; for all men are*'' The spiritual contrast be- 
tween this deaf man and the blind one, is very great. 
The superintendant requested me to pay particular 
attention to them, saying, " there you will find The 
Contrast." Indeed I did. 

A second question which I wrote was this ; " do 
you feel that you need a Saviour i" 

He read it several times, and said, " ay, I think I 
am a little better : I think I shall get well yet, A 
Saviour; hum I God must do -with me as he pleases*'' 

Again I wrote, " are you willing to pray for par- 
don ?" 

After some hesitation he said, " I pray for all men 
as well as myself I pray for all mankind. I must 
pray for my enemies" 

I resumed the pencil. " God be merciful to ME 
a sinner, is the chief prayer which a sinner ought 
to offer. He should pray for all men, even enemies, 
-" but for himself in particular. Are you prepared to 
die ? I think that you must die soon. May God 
bless you !" 

He hastily rubbed out the last clause but one, and 
I put my finger on the place, but he would say 
nothing about dying, except " I think I am a little 
better" In answer to the rest he said, u 1 thank 
you, Sir; that is very good, that is very pretty " 



157 

In another ward, I visited the wounded seamen 
who were captured in the British sloop of war Pea- 
cock, by the Hornet. One had lost a leg, another 
an arm and a thumb ; another some part of the 
face and some part of his limbs ; and all were ob- 
jects of compassion. One said he felt it no dis- 
grace to be taken by the Americans ; " but if it had been 
by the French, I would never have shown my face in 
England. Why, Sir, I found it was English ship 
against English ship ; and we were fighting our 
own messmates" One told me that he did not 
know that he had lost his hand, and a part of the 
arm, for many minutes after ; u and as for me, to 
be shaure," said another, who was wounded in the 
head, "I did not know that I was hurt for many 
days after" He intended that his consciousness 
of his situation was lost for many days. 

Soon after the sailors of the Hornet landed at 
Brooklyn, they found a peacock, belonging, it issaid^ 
to commodore Chauncey, late superintendent of the 
navy-yard. The peacock was fond of displaying 
its tail, and the tars, who had so lately conquered the 
Peacock, declared that nothing by the name of pea- 
cock should have colours standing in their presence- 
To make their oath good, they caught the bird, and 
deprived him of all his long tail. Soon after, I saw 
them riding through the city, and every sailor, who 
could put his hand out of the coach-window, ex- 
tended to public view a feather from the peacock, 
in token of their victory. This is a sketch of the 
I evity of a sailor's mind. 
o 



158 A PROUD SPIRIT, 

Even this is preferable to the surly, rerengeful 
spirit of some, who contend in national engage- 
ments. The sailors seem to feel no enmity against 
their enemies, and as an honourable proof of this I 
would state, that soon after an engagement, the crew 
of an American brig of war, contributed enough to 
purchase each of the captive crew a suit of clothes. 

Mr. Thomas Eddy, one of the most distinguish- 
ed benefactors of the New- York Hospital, related 
to me the following facts, which I would contrast 
with the generosity of a son of Neptune. 

In the late defeat of the American general Win- 
chester, a young officer of liberal education, a Vir- 
ginian, was wounded, and taken prisoner. He was 
immediately recognized by a young English officer, 
who had been his intimate companion at Princeton 
College, and who was disposed to receive him with 
great cordiality. The proud spirit of the Virginian 
could not submit to receive kindness from an ene- 
my ; but the Englishman, after the battle, felt the 
emotions of friendship, and solicited his academic 
friend, since he was wounded, to take a seat in his 
sleigh for Maiden, to which he must of necessity 
resort. The Virginian refused, saying, that he 
would never be indebted to an enemy. The En- 
glishman attempted to soothe the mind of his for- 
mer friend, and persuade him to accept of kind- 
ness, from one who felt no hostility in his heart ; 
but it was all in vain. " I will owe nothing to an 
enemy," was the reply of the unsubdued spirit of 
the American ; and therefore he attempted to march 



the* disconsolate comforted. 159 

for Maiden. Not far had he proceeded before his 
strength failed, and then he was glad to present an 
Indian five dollars for the privilege of riding his 
horse. The vehicle of his friend was gone, and 
Indians were his companions. But these savages 
are not to be trusted. Before he could arrive at 
the place of his destination, some Indians asked 
the owner of the horse, why that American rode. 
The owner replied, because he has paid me. This 
was a sufficient inducement, and the wild children 
of the woods, having watched their opportunity, 
shot the unhappy youth, who disdained the entreaty 
of his classmate. Let us give the Englishman 
his due. 

In the evening, I preached in the Almshouse. 
The room was uncomfortably full, and the dying 
were around me ; but who could be silent f Three 
different persons, in so many rooms, sent for me to 
come and pray with them. Two of them I have 
visited before. Some whom I instructed when 
last there, were dead. M— • B— was also very 
grateful for renewed attentions. " My hope is," 
she said with tears, " that God has pardoned my 
sins, and that he will pardon them." 

With Mrs. G — H — , I prayed also. She fails 
fast ; but she says that since I saw her last God has 
been pleased to give her some sweet communion 
with himself. Indeed she complains of a hard 
heart still, but she seems like a little child. What 
she said, and what others uttered, I would record^ 
but am exhausted, This evening concludes- the 



360 CARELESS DRIVERS* 

first quarter of my services, performed under the 
patronage of the Society for supporting the Gospel 
among the poor in the city of New-Tor k. It pro- 
duces so much pain to write my journal, after the 
fatigue of the day, that I am determined to writs 
but little more. If the exhibition already made 
will not influence Christians to continue to support 
the Gospel among the poor in this metropolis^ 
nothing, which I can write, will have that effect. 
God bless his word, and have pity on the poor. 

April 1st. 

THE young soldier I found rational, and prayed 
with him; but all the intelligence I gained from 
him was by his sad " Oh I dear I Oh ! dear !" 

While I was in the Hospital, a father brought in 
a little boy in his arms, to have the surgeon dress 
his wound. A carriage had run over him, and 
bruised his head, a little above one eye, so that the 
skull was left bare. It gave him such a violent 
shock, that he bit off a part of his tongue. He is a 
fine little fellow, about three years old j and when 
I saw him, the blood was all over his face, hands, 
red-frock, and little boots. Parents and drivers 
are both to be censured for their carelessness. For 
the prevention of such occurrences, it is peculiarly 
necessary that every city should have good laws, 
and a good police. None should be permitted, re- 
gardless of their fellow-citizens, to drive like Jehu v 
through the streets 



SOME ENGLISH PRISONERS*' 16A 

April 4th. 

THE English prisoners in the Hospital, were 
anxious to have me preach this morning in their 
ward. The superintendant complied with their re- 
quest, in ordering the necessary preparations, and 
when I had done, some of them thanked me, and said 
they had not heard a sermon before for seven years* 
The captain of the Peacock, however, read prayers 
to them, on every Lord's day. One of the sailors, 
whose arm was taken off badly by the surgeon of 
the Peacock, and afterwards was of necessity taken 
off higher up, by the surgeon of the Hornet, says,' 
that if he lirves to arrive in Old England, he will 
drink the health of the last operator every day of his 
life. George sung, as usual, with as much ease as 
any who had hymn-books. It pleased the prisoners 
much, and one of them observed, that " the blind mam 
knexv the book fore and aft.- 9 " 

When I came away, I still heard him singing for 
them; and they will find him as well acquainted with 
a hundred sacred songs, as they are with the rigging 
of a ship. 

Mrs. G — H — is the very picture of 'death,'- co- 
vered with skin, and furnished with a pair of pene- 
trating eyes. "Well, Madam, how have you been 
to-day ?" 

" Very miserable / full of pain ! nothing to comfort 
me? 9 

" But it is the Lord's day ; and have you not de- 
rived Some satisfaction from the contemplation of 

sfrvkie things f 9 

o % 



£62 THE COMFORTED DISCONSOLATE". 

" No, my dear Sir, a person so full of pain ca&- 
scarcely think at all. No one wants to die" 

" What do you most of all desire V y 

" I desire to be free from pain, and be made com- 
fortable while I live, for one who has no hope for the 
future must make the most of this life : and I am sure 
that my heart is not broken. But I can hope for 
nothing in this world," 

" It is Satan who tempts you to despair ; and who 
takes the advantage of your natural temper and bo- 
dily weakness. Pray, tell me, again, what you 
have against Jesus Christ.'* 

" Ay, Mr, Ely, why will you shut my mouth P — 
What can I say £ : I have no body else to trust in," 

" It seems, then, that you trust in him J" 

Here the aged woman was quite cut down. Her 
tenderness overflowed, she clasped her hands, and 
bowed her head in silence. 

I prayed with a young person whom I saw on the 
31 st of the last month. She was affected with a vio- 
lent inflammation of the lungs- I then told her, that 
she must die, but she insisted that she had nothing 
but a bad cold. To-night she is convinced, that it 
is something worse, and feels that she must die. 
She is a young things of no education, but that 
which trained her for lust. She resembles a hand- 
some female, whom I saw yesterday, whose mother 
sold her, for a time, to a gay young captain, for five 
hundred dollars. 

When I said to her, tt You are a great sinner 'P 
she understood me to use that term, sinner, as it is 
sometimes, used in the scriptures^ for a transgressor 



A LITTLE SINNER* 16^ 

ofher peculiar class, and replied, with all the hones- 
ty of death ; " No, Sir, I have not very often, lam 
not but a little sinner" 

" I speak of all sorts of sin. You sin when you 
do not love God as you should. Have you not 
thought little of God? Have you not neglected 
many duties, which you should have performed I 
You have spoken wicked words, and performed bad 
actions ; and in ten thousand cases you have come 
short of the glory of God." 

She confessed that she had been wicked, but still 
seemed to imagine, that only one crime made a sin- 
ner, and for that " she hoped the Almighty would- 
forgive her," 

From a young woman of ardent piety, but hum- 
ble circumstances, who has often, in company with* 
^ther ladies, and some gentlemen, attended public 
worship in the Almshouse, I received the following , 

LETTER. 

« New-Tor k y Mareh 21, 1813. . 
« Sis, 

" I must confess that the Lord is not confined to 
places, for I have been much refreshed this eveningo 
I was constrained to go to the throne of grace, and 
supplicate a blessing on the exercises of the evenings 
and I hope and trust the Lord was with us, for you 
had a great-enlargement of speech, or I had uacom? 
mon ears to hear, for I thought you painted me out 
as the poor dejected widow.* It is necessary that 

* The writer was not aware, before the reception of thia 
letter, that his hearer was a widow, and therefore if his dig* 
course met her case, it was of the Lord- 



164 

I should be humbled in the dust, for I am less than 
the least of all God's mercies. I hope you will re* 
member me in your petitions to the throne of grace, 
and I hope and trust your hands may be held up, by 
all who love our Lord Jesus Christ. Oh ! that the 
Lord would bless you in your private studies* and 
in your public ministrations. May he grant you all 
temporal enjoyments, and many souls for your hire, 
which shall be as stars in your crown j for I think 
that your degree of happiness will be in proportion 
to your condescension in this world. I very much 
regret your leaving the city, but I think you have the 
good of souls at heart, and that you will be blest in 
whatever part of the vineyard you may labour. It 
is an arduous work r but yet most delightful, to stand 
on the walls of Jerusalem, and blow the gospel trum* 
pet. May you be a large and lasting blessing to the 
church of Jesus Christ. But I think the rich ? as 
well as poor, will miss you in this city. 

■* For them we pray, for them we wait. 
To them thy great salvation shew : 
Thy harvest, Lord, is truly great, 
But faithful labourers are few* 



" O send out preachers, gracious Lord,' . 
Among the poorest of our race ; 
Open their eyes, and bless thy wordy 
And call them by thy sov'reign grace. 

u Then shall they shout thy honor'd name,, 
And sound thy matchless grace abroad, 
And we wilrjoin them in the theme., 
Salvation to our risen Gad. 2 * 






£>$Bs»i& 



REPLY TO THE LETTER. 165 

u Sir, I did not intend to take pay for making 
your clothes. I hope you will receive this bill 
again. Silver and gold I have not, but such as I 
have I give unto thee, for your labour of love among 
us. I hope, Sir, you will forgive me for the free- 
dom I have taken in sending you these unconnected 
lines, and please to obliterate them as soon as you 
read them. 

^ Your humble servant, 

THE REPLY. 

New-York^ April 5th, A. D. 1813* 
Thou poor Ruth, 

My Master has not placed me in circumstances 
so similar to his own, while on earth, that I can re- 
ceive the money which you have returned. It is 
your due, and you shall receive it. God has now 
disposed the rich to provide abundantly for me. I 
was poor, but now I abound ; and you have nothing 
which does not come by hard labour. You must 
learn to regard your own interests. Were our Lord 
upon earth, I am persuaded that you and Mrs. 
M — , and a few other widows of little or no proper- 
ty, would be the first to administer to his necessities. 
His sustenance commonly came from a few females, 
who were in the humbler walks of life ; for, although 
he dined with the rich, yet he took up his residence 
for the night with such families as that of Martha^ 
and her sister, and Lazarus. It was a proof of our 
Saviour's kindness, that he allowed the poor to con- 



166 LIBERALITY OF THE POOR. 

tribute, of their penury, to the comfort of his human 
nature, for he indulged their benevolent feelings^ 
and permitted them to enter into '" the fellowship of 
his sufferings," and of his beneficence : but remem- 
ber that Jesus was then, as he is now, the Heir of all 
things, the Disposer of all events, and would not 
suffer the poor widow to become ultimately poorer, 
ift temporal things, by giving him bread. 

Could you prove, that it was-your duty to give me 
ten dollars, I would take them, in confidence that 
God would refund the very same sum j but never 
until then. 

Let me tell you, that I have never found but two 
or three rich persons^ whom I thought were likely 
to be too liberal, although I have found multitudes 
of them indiscreet in their charities j but among the 
industrious poor I have often found, that the ardent* 
ly pious perform more than their resources will jus- 
tify. When I have seen you and Mrs. M — relieve 
many, with whom we have prayed, I can hardly say 
which predominated in my mind, the pleasure of 
seeing them comforted, or the fear that you would 
go beyond your ability. You cannot relieve all the 
misery with which you will meet. Often, very 
often, within the last three years, I have seen a poor 
miserable female, with parched lips and burning 
tongue, whom medicine could not save, but whom 
a shilling might have furnished with something 
more suitable than the coarse brown fare, which is 
too good for lazy paupers, but not good enough for 
the vilest of the vile ? when they might receive a: 



THE DARKNESS OE NATVRE. 1§¥ 

drop of consolation on the bed of death : but, alas ! 
1 had not ar shilling in the world. 

Now these times are over, and I hope in God 
that they never will return. Be assured that I duly 
estimate your intended kindness to me, and your 
actual beneficence to many among whom I labour 
in doctrine. 

May the Lord always have you in his holy keep- 
ing, and comfort your widowed heart. 

E.S.ELY. 
Mrs. M—H— • L— , 

April 7ths 

IN nine wards of the Hospital, I have this af- 
ternoon visited many afflicted with divers diseas- 
es, but the most distressing cases are those of the 
spotted fever, and of a labourer, who fell from a 
second story, and fractured his skull. I convers- 
ed with an African of about thirty, who told me, that 
in his native land, from which he was stolen, he 
never heard, never thought of a God, nor of a Sa- 
viour. I laboured to give him some notion of 
Him who made all things; and finally succeeded, 
by turning his attention to a machine for half- 
raising him in bed. He perceived that the ma- 
chine did not make itself, and that it must have 
been made by some one. In this manner I led 
"him to think of the first man, and of all other be- 
ings. 



168 HALF AN EYE, 

A native of Portugal was yesterday confessed, 
as his countrymen say, and received, the wafer ; 
but he was dissatisfied, and desired to see some 
minister u who could tell him something." He 
listened to me, and requested me to pray. 

An African, I found far gone with the prevalent 
fever, who said a few rational things, and then told 
me, u that he had lately found out how he came by 
his disease : one Mr. Jennings had put him under 
a spell, and produced it." 

It was useless to converse with him any longer, 
and 1 turned to others. Captain P — , a very exem- 
plary and pious man, who has long resided in the 
Hospital, was reading to the blind sailor, whose 
eyes appear perfectly good, but are useless. The 
captain cannot see with one eye, and with the other, 
aided by a broken spectacle, but a little. He made 
out, however, to read, so that his afflicted compa- 
nion could hear. God has given him the spirit of 
prayer and supplication, and he literally looks upon 
Him, whom his sins have pierced, and mourns and 
weeps, and is in bitterness, as one mourns for an 
only child, and is in bitterness for a first-born. It 
has been good for him that God sent him to the 
Hospital. 

Another sailor, who is almost well, requested to 
have particular conversation with me, that he might 
be more perfecdy instructed. He tells me that his 
attention was particularly arrested by a discourse, 
which I delivered many weeks ago, from this text, 
i( and he seemed as one that mocked." Ever since, 



DYING HEARERS. 169 

he has been more than usually impressed with di- 
vine truth, and the preaching of the word. 

In the evening, I preached in the Almshouse, to 
a full audience, and heard many hymns, which were 
bought for a cent a piece, as usual. George I de- 
sired to visit the English prisoners to-morrow, at 
their request, and sing for them. The sadly maim- 
ed fellows expressed almost indescribable gratitude 
to me, for preaching to them on the last Sabbath. 

I am sure, that one who might feel it his duty to 
fight these men, could not feel any personal enmity 
against them ; for they discover no malignity to our 
nation ; not even to their captors. 

Vvvwvyvw 

April 11th, 

FROM half past eight in the morning until half 
past nine o'clock in the evening of this Sabbath, I 
have been engaged, as I was during the last Lord's 
day, in a round of preaching and praying. During 
the last part of public worship in the Almshouse, an 
aged woman, who heard the sermon, appeared to 
die on her seat. Whether she will awake again in 
this life, to continue, is uncertain. 

While Mr. C 11 prayed in one ward of the 

coloured people, a young woman awoke in great dis- 
tress, and groaned with pain. After he had con- 
cluded, I asked her if she could join in that prayer, 
and she answered " Tes." 

" But do you pray yourself?" 



1T0 A ^IOUS "WOMAN OF COLOUR. 

"Why not?" 

" I don't know how," she cried, with tears, "and 
I sin every day of my life*'* 

This person feels wretched indeed. She has lost 
her natural sight, and says her heart is blinder still. 

Another coloured woman we found, who is very 
different in her state of mind. She is a member of 
the First Presbyterian church ; and I think I never 
saw a more humble creature. She suffers much, but 
says that she is willing to suffer as much more as 
God may please to lay upon her. I feel confident, 
that there is no Christian in affluence, who would 
not feel himself reproved by her gratitude to God, 
by her patience, and by the great satisfaction which 
she feels in 'being brought near to the Lord, even by 
her afflictions. 

So many attend on my discourses from without 
the Almshouse, that they exclude some of the poor, 
who attempt to press into the room ; and I was, 
therefore, obliged to tell the gate-keeper not to ad- 
mit these visitors in future. I should be happy to 
preach to them, for they are persons of all ranks in 
society, and they are sinners ; but in the Almshouse 
the Gospel must first be preached to the poor. 

wvvwvw 

April 13th. 

FREQUENTLY I have conversed with J. D. 

D , the old Universalist, since I have made any 

record of his conversation. The other day he told 
me, that when I first addressed him, he thought me 



CONFESSION OF A UNIVERSALIS! 1 . 171 

one of the physicians, or he should not have made 
so free with me. His frankness, however, led to 
many discussions. I requested him to write me, 
and state what were his serious thoughts, on his 
bed, about the future state. He has complied, and 
his letter follows. 

" New-Tork Hospital, April 12th, 1813. 
" Parson Ely, 
" Sir, 

"As you have requested my sentiments on a fu- 
ture state, I shall endeavour to answer you in a 
short paragraph. 

" My thoughts are, that when a man departs this 
life, if he is a righteous man, he goes to heaven j but 
if he is wicked, he goes to hell, without redemption, 
there to be punished, for his sins, to the endless ages 
of eternity. 

" As for my own part, I well know, that I am a 
sinner born, and still so remain. Without the help 
of the blessed Saviour, I am ruined for ever. 

" When I pray, the Tempter draws my attention 
to some worldly business, to persuade me from the 
great and Almighty God. By a strong sense of my 
own guilt, I know that I am a sinner, and have only 
one way to be saved j that is, through the blessed 
Jesus Christ. This bed of affliction has brought 
me to know the want of a Saviour, who, I am in 
great hopes, will teach me to pray the right way. 
I feel my desires grow stronger for religion. The 



172 THE OBDURATE OLD MAN 

more good I hear, the more I want to hear. The 
first time I heard your discourse, I seemed to have 
a strong regard for the speaker. This was the first 
time I had any taste for religion. I shall be very 
glad to have some private talk with you ; so you 
must excuse me, for I have written my thoughts. 
I shall be glad to see your answer. 

" I remain your well-wisher, through Christ, 

« J. D. D " 

REPLY. 

New-York, April 14th, 1813. 
Aged Friend, 

If you verily believe, that it shall be well with 
the righteous, and ill with the wicked, your faith 
will influence your conduct, and afford such evi- 
dence of its existence, as the scriptures require. 
But if any one professes to believe in a future judg- 
ment, and yet lives in a thoughtless, prayerless, 
heedless manner, the truth is not in him. I am 
pleased to have it from your own pen, that you do 
believe the scriptural doctrine of rewards and pun- 
ishments. If you wrote from serious reflection, I 
can easily credit your assertion, that you feel your- 
self a needy and helpless sinner. Why is it that 
men can talk proudly against divine truth, before 
their wicked associates, but cannot easily persuade 
themselves to commit the same language to wri- 
ting ? Are they ashamed to have that read and re- 
membered, which they speak wickedly against 



MADE SENSIBLE OF GUILT. 173 

God ? Let them remember, that all their speeches, 
as well as writings, are recorded in the memory of 
their final Judge. Why are many of the patients in 
the Hospital, willing to use such language before 
one another, as they would not adopt before me ? 
Why would you, my old friend, say that to the phy- 
sician, which you would not say to the minister I 
Truth is the same, whether it be told to another, or 
myself. You should never say any thing about re- 
ligion, to any one, which you would not say to Je- 
hovah, were he present in the visible person of Je- 
sus Christ. 

If you intend what you have written, you repent 
of the past, and you will henceforth seek to order 
your conversation aright. You will speak and act 
in the presence of all, as one who believes that reli- 
gion is a serious business. 

Never again deny the doctrine of future punish- 
ments, for you perceive that sinners are punished 
here, under the government of the good God ; and 
if they die in a state of impenitence, his goodness 
will not deliver them from their present state of suf- 
fering, but his justice will increase its evils, until 
they shall be made as miserable as they have made 
themselves sinful. 

You speak the truth, when you attribute many of 
the temptations which you experience, to the influ- 
ence of Satan. Men speak more truth than they 
imagine they do, when they sometimes thoughtless- 
ly say, " the devil is in you !" If you have discover- 
ed, that the enemy of all good is suffered to trouble 
p2 



1T4> A SINNER AWAKENED 

you, it will be your business to resist him, by pray- 
er, pious meditation, and the perusal of the Bible, 
with other pious books, that he may flee from you. 

The name of Jesus is an ever grateful theme to 
me. You need not fear to ask of him all the spirit- 
ual blessings which you want. Your sins are many ; 
but the blood of Christ is sufficient to cleanse those 
who believe, from all sin. Now be entreated to 
confess vour iniquities to him ; and accept of him 
for all the purposes for which he offers himself to 
you ; for pardon, righteousness, sanctification, sal- 
vation, and everlasting life. 

If you have written to me in good earnest, what 
you think, may God bless you : and if you have 
written merely for amusement, may God bless you: 
so that "by any means you may receive spiritual ben- 
efit through the Lord's minister, and the friend of 
your soul, 

E. S. ELY. 

wvvwvw 

April 14th. 
A FEW weeks since, a gay and thoughtless 
young man providentially took up " The Journal of 
the Stated Preacher to the Hospital and Almshouse, 
for 1811," and was so much interested in it, that he 
immediately purchased a copy. It was the means 
of awakening his serious attention to the concerns of 
his soul. At that time he was a stranger to me ; 
but one of his relatives made me acquainted with 
bis situation, and requested me to visit him. To- 



BY THE JOURNAL. ITS 

day the request was renewed, in the name of the 
young man, and I visited him. Never before has 
he desired to see any preacher of the Gospel ; and 
since, he has hitherto attended public worship in no 
church ; he belongs to my diocese. Of his eternal 
salvation, there is much reason to hope. 

This will compensate me abundantly for the little 
labour which that book cost. One soul is of infi- 
nite value, and to be the instrument of saving it is 
an infinite honour. 

WVVWWfc> 

April 16th. 

TO-DAY I have made a missionary tour 
through many rooms in the Hospital and Alrns^ 
house. The blind sailor is, in my opinion, a Chris- 
tian indeed ; and is so grateful for the preaching 
of the Gospel, that the Orderly-man says, that the 
poor fellow will weep at the mention of my name. 
He is full of contrition, humility, and affection. It 
is not in vain that God has sent me to proclaim, m 
the name of Jesus, liberty to the captives, and the 
opening of the prison to them that are bound ; to 
preach good tidings unto the meek ; to bind up the 
broken-hearted ; to proclaim the acceptable year of 
the Lord. 

Not many days ago, an unknown lady sent me a 
bundle of Catechisms to distribute, for which I 
thank her, in the name of the poor, who have this 
afternoon received them. 



176 INSENSIBILITY TO DANGER. 

April 19th. 

THE occurrences and services of this holy Sab- 
bath, from morning until evening, have been nearly 
the same with many which have preceded. From 
the thirteen past hours, take three for intermission, 
and the remaining ten have been employed by the 
writer in public worship. He ought to get good, 
and do good. May the Lord help him. 

'WfeWWW 

April 22d. 

WHILE preceding one corpse to the grave, this 
afternoon, I saw three coffins pass us in procession, 
and heard the noisy little boys who ran after us, ex- 
claim, " Huzza, huzza, here are two burials met .'" 
One not accustomed to the repeated deaths of a me- 
tropolis, will very justly infer from this, that mor- 
tality makes very little impression on the living. 
Well I remember, that once I could not endure to 
see, much less to touch, a corpse ; but now, from 
familiarity with the grave, nothing deeply affects me 
but such considerations as relate to the soul, and its 
eternal happiness or misery. The immortal inte- 
rests of man have not become of apparently less im- 
portance, neither do I feel less? than formerly upon 
this subject ; but I could dissect a corpse without a 
tear ; and, if necessary, without a trembling hand. 
Habit, says an old proverb, conquers all things. 

Another illustration of this remark, we have in a 
son of one of the English prisoners from the Pea- 
cock. The child is about four years of age. Du« 



A DYING TIME. 177 

ring the action with the Hornet, this little boy was 
chasing a goat between decks, to ride it. Not at all 
terrified by destruction and death all around him, 
he persisted, till a cannon ball came between him 
and the goat, which took off both her hind legs ; 
when, seeing her disabled, he jumped astride her, 
crying, " Now I've caught you !" 

Many, many, whose sins are more in number 
than the hairs of their head, are as thoughtless of 
of death, and its consequences, as he. 

<w\<wvw\ 

April 24th. 
I VISITED the Hospital to-day, and prayed in 
three wards. It is a dying time there. Two per- 
sons have just departed, and I had to inform two 
more that their days are numbered. One of them 
is the largest and stoutest young man I ever saw. 
He has lost one eye, and with the other wept, while 
I conversed with him. Probably he did not live an 
hour after I left him. The other was spitting blood. 
He told me, that he had horrors of conscience, and 
felt himself a sinner ; but did not know any thing 
about the manner in which a sinner could be saved. 
Of course he had need of a teacher ; and very hum- 
bly thanked me for preaching Jesus, and the new 
life. 



vwwww 



April 25th. 
IN half an hour after I left that young Samson 
yesterday, he was taken with the black vomit, and 
died. 






178 THE BLIND SAILOR. 

To-day I have preached four times ; and in the 
whole, to at least two thousand different hearers. 
One of the sermons was about forty minutes in 
length, one thirty, and the other two, an hour each. 
I cannot complain of any inattention in my audi- 
ence ; and some of the lost females I saw weeping. 



vwvwwv 



April 27th. 

THE blind sailor, in the Hospital, gives most 
satisfactory evidence, that he possesses a broken 
and contrite heart. He was never deeply impress- 
ed until about six weeks since, when it pleased God 
to send a message, by my preaching, to his heart. 

J. D. D — is about leaving the Hospital, and 
when I was quitting his room, followed me, to thank 
me privately, and express his respect for my minis- 
trations. 

After I had visited most of the rooms, I passed 
the door of the lost ones, without entering. I was 
sent for, however, by one who formerly laughed at 
my instructions. Not long after she entered upon 
her vile course, her friends carried her home, to a 
respectable father, and kind mother. They at- 
tempted to detain her by force, but she made her es- 
cape, and returned to her old profession. One year 
ago she was well-favoured, smooth, fair, and of a 
full habit. Now she is so reduced, that the familiar 
eye can scarcely discern in her face, full of dis- 
honourable scars, the same person. But she is 
humbled, and I almost forget what she was. For 



THE RESULT OF EXPERIENCE. 179 

several weeks she has been attentive to my dis- 
courses, when her feeble frame could scarcely sup- 
port her. To-day she asked after the way of life, 
with tears. The result of my experience is such, in 
relation to this class of persons, that I deem this a 
correct motto : " Indulge little hope of any 

OF THEM, BUT DESPAIR OF NONE." 

vvvvwvw 

April "ZZth. 

THIS evening I preached again in the Alms- 
house, in such atmosphere as has made me almost 
sick. 

WVVWVW 

April 30th. 
MY invaluable friend, Dr. Romeyn, being in a 
poor state of health, I preached for him this evening. 

WVVWVW 

May 2d. 
THREE times to-day I have proclaimed a Sa- 
viour, and in addition have visited, and prayed in, 
two wards of the Almshouse. 

WVWVWV 

May 3d. 
THIS morning I visited three wards in the Hos- 
pital. In one I conversed with an afflicted woman, 
who was a short time since in affluence ; and who 
is now learning the difficult lesson of being patient 



180 A REST FROM LABOUR. 

in adversity. In another I saw an afflicted young 
gentleman, Mr. C — , weep at his sins, which are 
past, and heard him express his firm resolution of 
devoting his spared life, to the service of his God. 

In the third room I prayed with the youn 
woman whom I saw on the 27th of the last month 
She was perfectly sensible ; but was in the agonies 
of death. 

The writer feels exhausted with labour, and will 
here leave the sick, for a few weeks, to others, that 
he may, once in two years, revisit the place of his 
nativity, and the parents who gave him birth. 

vwvwvw 

May 22d. 
YESTERDAY the writer returned to the city, 
and to-day visited the Almshouse, and Hospital. 
While he prayed in one room, two prostitutes, 
whom he never saw before, burst into tears, and 
one of them said, " she knew that she was a sinner, 
but knew nothing of the way of salvation." One 
at the Hospital said, " Sir, we have had a fast since 
you have been gone" They seem to be in high 
spirits at his return. It is a little remarkable, that 
not an individual died at the Hospital, during his 
absence from the city. The superintendent does 
not remember that so long a time ever elapsed there 
before without a death. To-day, however, he saw 
a corpse carried out, which warned him to return to 
his labour. 



THE ASSISTANT MATRON. 181 

May 23d. 
I HAVE, to-day, preached three times, and 
visited several sick persons. My poor charge are 
probably more attached to me than any other people 
will ever be. They welcome me with smiles, and 
tears, and prayers. 



v»-'wwwt> 



May 25th. 
THE Rev. Jacob Brodhead, whose plainness and 
ardent zeal my poor people love, made an exchange 
with me this evening. He preached in the Alms- 
house, and I in the North Dutch Church. 



May 27th. 

LAST night, after ten o'clock, I was called to 
visit Mrs. A——, an assistant-matron of the Alms- 
house, who was, as she thinks, converted, through 
my instrumentality, about two years ago. For 
some time she has been a member in full communi- 
on with the Reformed Dutch Church. I found her 
on one side, motionless, and much shattered in 
mind ; but all her conversation was about Christ, 
and his people. Her attachment to the writer is 
very great. She calls for him at frequent intervals, 
and, although she has children, yet proffers him, in 
her partial, but momentary delirium, all that she 
possesses. 

This morning I found her more composed in 
mind, and more at rest in body, from the progress 



182 THE SPOTTED FEVER. 

of her disease. She said, alluding to the communi- 
on in the Dutch church, which is approaching, " / 
hoped to break bread -with you soon y dear Sir, but I 
am ready to depart, I hope he will take me soon." 
A pious woman came to see her, and she desired 
that she might be raised up " to talk with one of the 
people of God." 

In the Hospital too, I visited many, and particu- 
larly the blind sailor, " who is my own son in the 
faith." He is certainly a signal monument of di- 
vine grace ! 

On the last Sabbath, Mr. C — listened to my dis- 
course, and in one part of it, I could perceive, that 
he was very deeply affected. To-day I found him 
thoughtful and tender. The spotted fever left 
some extravasated serum in the thorax, as it did in 
the case of the vigorous H — H— , which becoming 
pus, produced ulcerations in the lungs. One of the 
lobes of the lungs of H — H — was found, on ex- 
amination after death, to have been wholly consum- 
ed. Mr. C — seems to be in the same situation : 
but he flatters himself that he has no serious pulmo- 
nary complaint. 

To state to him my own opinion, and that of 
his physician, I find very difficult j but I prepared 
the way this morning by prayer, and conversation, 
as well as I could* 

"VWVWVW 

May 30th. 
AFTER concluding my third public service, I 
visited three rooms in the Almshouse, and prayed 



THE SICK IRISH MOTHER. 183 

in each of them. The conversation with many was 
very similar to that which has been related on for- 
mer occasions. While I was preaching, to-night. 
a man muttered, so as to be heard by all, " damn 
the stuff! I don l t want to hear any more of it I" 
After a short pause, I said, u it is my duty to preach 
Christ, whether men will hear or forbear." After 
this he was still, and during the greater part of the 
discourse attended to the speaker. 



vwvvvw* 



May 31st. 
BY request, I went to No. 26, Harman-street, to 
visit a sick woman ; and, behold, I found the Irish 
mother, of whom some account is given on the 201st 
page of my first Journal. She has three children 
living ; and about a month since left the Almshouse, 
to live by her own industry. She obtained a com- 
fortable room, and was doing well j but one day last 
week, worked harder than her strength would al- 
low ; got wet in the rain, and now has a violent fe- 
ver. Some of the Lord's poor seem to be doomed 
to perpetual afflictions. May not the person who 
enjoys almost uninterrupted prosperity, ask, in as- 
tonishment, " why am I exempted P Gracious God^ 
why hast thou made us to differ f '' 



vwvwvw 



yuneVd. 

PREACHED in the Almshouse, and visited as 
usual. 



184 AN EPITAPH. 

June 6th. 
TO-DAY I have preached three times, but I be- 
^in to think that the labour is more than I can bear, 
m the warm season. In a hymn-book which I used 
in the Almshouse, during public worship, and which 
I gave to a pious woman not long since, I found this 
inscription, which she had procured to be written, I 
believe by her little son : 

. " Mary Brasher's Book ; 

SACRED 

To the Memory of 
The Rev. E. S. Ely." 
It was intended for respect ; and I was not asham- 
ed to read this concise monumental praise. I would 
not wish another word added to my future tomb- 
stone. 

IVM1WVVM 

June 8th, 
PREACHED in the Almshouse. 

wvvwwv 

June 9th. 
DELIVERED the discourse at the missionary 
prayer meeting. 

vwwxvw 

June 13th. 

TWENTY-SEVEN years ago, to-day, I was 
brought, a feeble infant, with a polluted nature, into 
the apostate family of Adam. But the grace of God 
has put me into the Christian ministry. 



VALEDICTORY DISCOURSES. 185 

I have preached my valedictory discourses* 1 in 
three places to-day ; and was principally grieved, 
on the occasion, by the loud wailing of the poor 
people. Never would I wish to be more beloved 
by any people ; never would I wish again to have \ 
my departure from any place so deeply regretted, as 
the present has been, by the aged men, and women, 
in the Almshouse. 

It was necessary for me to get away from them 
as fast as possible, for I wept, and they were likely 
to deluge me with tears. 

May God bless the poor, and provide for them ; 
and to his name shall be all the praise for ever. 



* Those who may wish to know why I left New- York, and 
whither I went, will find their curiosity gratified, by consult- 
ing- " A History of Ecclesiastical Proceedings relative to the 
Third Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia," which has been 
given to the public by General John Steele, Collector of 
the Port of Philadelphia, and Mu. William M'Corkle, 
Editor of the "Freeman's Journal," 



<L2 



APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 



PART I. 



THE FIRST REPORT 

Of the Trustees of the Society for Supporting the Gospel 
among the Poor in the City of New-York. 

" AND unto the Poor the Gospel is preached" 
was a decisive evidence adduced by the Divine Re- 
deemer to assure John the Baptist, that he was in- 
deed the Messiah, who brought nigh the kingdom of 
heaven unto men. 

" To satisfy the afflicted soul" the Evangelical 
Prophet declares to be one effectual mean of procur- 
ing the blessing of the Most High. 

Poverty, sickness, and distress, with their scorpion 
scourge, will drive their victims to those abodes 
which humanity provides for the children of afflic- 
tion. Thither the foot of pride refuses to direct its 
steps ; there the full heart of prosperity finds no 
scenes, corresponding with a sense of selfish gratifi- 
cation. 

Obscure and neglected, the sufferers would have 
pined in despondence, had not the religion of Jesus, 
by softening the heajt, subduing the pride, and ex= 



190 



APPENDIX. 



citing the sympathy of man, taught her disciples u to 
weep with those who weep" and, like their Divine 
Master, " to preach the glad tidings of Salvation to 
the poor." 

Under the banner, and in obedience to the precepts 
of this benign religion, " The Society for Support- 
ing the Gospel among the Poor in the City of New- 
Tor k" was instituted, at the close of the year 1812. 

On the 23d of December last, nine trustees* were 
elected to manage the concerns of the Society, who, 
out of their own number, chose, on the following 
day, a President, Secretory, and Treasurer. 

They appointed for their Preacher, the Rev. 
Ezra Stiles Ely, who had for some years before 
voluntarily devoted a great portion of his time to 
preaching in the Almshouse, and Hospital. By-laws 
were framed and adopted, and a Committee of Su- 
perintendence appointed to promote the object of 
the Society, during the recess of the Board, to 
whom they were required to report at each quarter- 
ly meeting. 

The Rev. Mr. Ely continued his services from 
the 1st of January until the 1st of July last, when 
he resigned his appointment in consequence of a call 
in Providence to change the place of his residence* 



* The following- gentlemen were the Trustees elected 
Henry Rutgers, President, Leonard Bleecker, 
Joel Post, Treasurer, Richard Duryee, 

John E. Caldwell, Sec'ry, Isaac Heyer, 
Benjamin Strong, and 

John. R. Murray, Dzvxje Bethune. 



FIRST REPORT, 191 

The tears and remonstrance of his humble charge 
testified the value of his services, and confirmed the 
Trustees in the propriety of their choice. 

From the first of July, the Rev. John Stanford, 
who had been already partially employed, was ap- 
pointed Stated Preacher of the Board. His labours 
have been faithful and abundant, and there is rea- 
son to hope, have proved a blessing unto some, at 
least, of those who have heard the Gospel from his 
lips* 

Permission having been granted by the regular 
authorities, the Trustees have paid a special atten- 
tion to the destitute in the Almshouse, the Hospital, 
and Debtors' Prison. Besides preaching alternate- 
ly in those places, Mr. Stanford extends his labours 
to the State Prison, the Military Hospital at Green- 
wich, and Magdalen House, and a few times to the 
Bride well. 

He usually preaches eight sermons in a week, that 
is, four on the Lord's Day, and four on other days ; 
besides which, he makes frequent visits, for the pur- 
poses of prayer, conversation, and instruction, to the 
^ick, the afflicted, and the dying. Eight hundred 
dollars a year, is the salary allowed by the board to 
their stated preacher. Many interesting instances 
of deep and solemn convictions of sin, awakened in 
the minds of the prisoners, and the poor, have been 
related to the Committee of Superintendence. As 
these facts, with others known to the Board, will 
very probably be presented to the public in a small 



192 . APPENDIX. 

volume, the Trustees decline the insertion of them 
in their Report to the Society. 

The Treasurer's Account Current, which is an- 
nexed, will exhibit the state of the funds. 

The Trustees close their Report, congratulating 
the Society on the prospect of usefulness, and ex- 
pressing their assured hope, that such an Institution 
will enjoy the blessing of God, and the support of all 
those who love and believe the compassionate Sa- 
viour, who said, " Blessed are the merciful; for they 
shall obtain mercy." 

By order of the Board of Trustees, 



DIVIE BETHUNE, 
LEONARD BLEEC 

New-Tor k, 30th November, 1813 



£R J Committee. 



APPENDIX 
PART II. 



WVWVVWi 



SOME ACCOUNT 

OF 

.3JV ACTRESS. 



! 



APPENDIX 



PART II. 



WWW 



LETTER FROM AN ACTRESS, TO HER MOTHER. 

New-Tor k, July 28th, 1815. 
My dear Mother, 

LONG have I been looking for a letter from 
you, or my brother, and have been disappointed. 
I hope this silence is not owing to illness or dis- 
pleasure. 

It was my wish to have paid you a visit, but the 
expense I could not very well afford. There was a 
gentleman here who would have taken me on, but I 
feared the slander of my foes. He may call on 
you. 

My dear mother, I wish to return ; but it appears 
there is an invisible power, that governs my actions, 
over which I have no control. Whether that influ- 
ence will terminate in good or ill, is yet to be 
proved. I entreat you to pray for me. The pray- 
ers of the good will ascend to the throne of God, 
and in mercy to your sufferings, I may be saved. 
Should it please the Almighty to cut the frail thread 



196 , APPENDIX. 

of my existence, I should be happy ; for I too have 
had my trials and temptations. When I look to 
what I might have been, and what I now am, my 
heart is ready to break : but reflection is fruitless j 
and I sometimes think my wishes, so contrary to 
your commands, could not have been accomplished, 
but for some wise purpose. The ways of Heaven 
are inscrutable. 

Mother, be not unhappy on my account ; but yet, 
do not neglect me so much as not to answer this 
letter. 

My boarding is now but three dollars, and I have 
been economical. I enclose you a bill to pay the 
postage, out of which I wish you would let William 

pay a trifle that I owe a person at Mrs. M— 's. 

It is not quite a dollar. Give my respects to them, 
and ask Betsey to write. Remember me to my 
friends. I had forgotten that I owe P — M l E — 
one dollar, which I shall send her. Give my love 
to my brother and sister ; and let me entreat you to 
write soon. Send me all the news that concerns my 
friends. Ask Mrs. P — why she don't write. 

I hope you have good health. I wish you could 
go into the country. This time last year I was with 
Mrs. K — *. If it would please her I would write. 

I shall conclude this long letter with prayers for 
your happiness and health. Adieu. 

Your affectionate daughter, 

L— M— . 

Direct me as before. 

■ Not Mrs. M— K 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 197 
LETTER FROM E. S. ELY TO MISS L— M— . 

Philadelphia, August 6th, A. D. 1814. 

YOUR affectionate, afflicted, but prayerful 
mother, Miss M — , has made me partially acquaint- 
ed with your character and circumstances. She 
has honoured me so far as to believe that I possess 
some philanthropy, and that, from the favourable 
opinion which you have formed of me, by reading 
my Journal, and hearing me preach a few times, I 
might possibly exert some influence for the benefit 
of your immortal soul. Oh ! if this were possible, 
it would add a new source of pleasure to my life, 
and I should be delighted with the satisfaction and 
comfort which you and your mother would then 
mutually experience. But I am told that you are 
handsome, and have met with considerable appro- 
bation in your theatrical career ! This is almost suf- 
ficient to banish every incipient hope of being use- 
ful to you ; for few can be contented with the reali- 
ties of plain and peaceful life, who know that they 
are pretty, and applauded. 

Shall I then here fold up my paper, and sigh, 
" Ay ! she is lost, for ever !" Certainly you are 
not far from destruction ; but your last tender letter 
to your parent, encourages some faint persuasion, 
that you may be rescued from contaminating scenes, 
from bewitching, delusive, destructive pursuits j 
from that path to temporal and eternal misery, which 
few that have entered ever retrace, 
r2 



198 APPENDIX. 

You retain, nevertheless, a tender regard for your 
mother's health and peace ; you respect her for her 
piety, and desire her prayers ; you have a strong- 
sense of justice, in relation to pecuniary obligations j 
you still cherish your reputation for purity ; and you 
declare that you even wish to return. These cir- 
cumstances combined, present such a prospect as in- 
duces me to think, that my compliance with your 
mother's request, in writing to you, may not prove 
like the attempt to soothe the angry tempest, by the 
soft modulations of the harp. You will certainly 
excuse me for writing, if you do not approve my mo- 
tives and sentiments j for it is your very dear, and 
truly deserving mother, who has twice urged it. 

Let me then come to the point. If you wish to 
return, why do you not return ? Your mother en- 
treats, and your conscience urges. A most cordial 
welcome awaits you, whenever you please to relin- 
quish the stage. She would gladly toil, not only 
for the maintenance of herself and your younger sis- 
ters, but for your support. She would become a 
slave, that you, her eldest, might " be a lady," could 
she thereby rescue her daughter from that misery 
and ruin which she is confident must, sooner or 
later, overtake all unprotected and giddy females 
who are inmates of the green-room. 

Might I not appeal to your own conscience as a 
witness, to prove that yours is a dangerous situa- 
tion ? You are perpetually exposed to the arts of un- 
principled and diseased men j and a chaste actress, 
among a thousand, would be a prodigy that might 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 199 

astonish the world. Return, then, unhappy L — , to 
your mother, and resolve to escape the temptations 
which surround you : resolve to labour rather for a 
scanty subsistence, than connive at vice, if not actu- 
ally participate in all the licentiousness which ren- 
ders the theatre enchanting to the debauchee and 
courtesan, that you may obtain the fleeting, accur- 
sed prosperity of the ungodly. Better would be a 
dinner of herbs, and robes of sackcloth, with the 
smiles of your mother, the peace of your own con- 
science, and the approbation of your final Judge, 
than the most sumptuous entertainment, the gayest 
apparel, and the worthless admirers, which might 
be obtained by a long life of cekbrity for wit, refine- 
ment, inimitable eloquence, and peerless beauty. 
What would be your ultimate gain, should you sell 
your person^ to the best advantage, and your talents 
for the richest ' benefit' ? Could you then live hap- 
pily, or die with either hope or resignation ? 

You must not, however, calculate upon pre-emi- 
nent rank in your profession ; for should you conti- 
nue in it, which I pray you may not,you have merely 
to expect, for a little while, such a portion as you at 
present have ; and when your powers and health 
shall decline, with premature old age, or something 
worse, the men who have flattered, and fostered, 
and promoted you, will cast you away, to perish in 
the streets. 

" But it appears," you write to your mother, that 
;t there is an invisible power which governs your 
actions, over which you have no control." Is this 



200 APPENDIX. 

designed to deceive the heart 'of your fond and for- 
saken parent ? Can she believe in the wretched doc- 
trines of fatalism, which constitute the religion of 
the theatre? No, no, young lady ! be honest, and 
assure yourself, as well as her, that 

" Our lusts are gods, and what they will is fate." 

God does, indeed, govern all beings, in such a 
manner as to allow them freedom of thought and 
action, but he does not impel you to do evil. If 
any invisible agency, besides your own heart's at- 
tachment to an illicit pursuit, prevents you from re- 
turning to the protection of her who bore you, it 
must be the Devil ; and I advise you to resist him 
as soon as possible. You have as much control 
over the action of returning home, as of ascending 
the stage. 

Whether the influence of your mind, or of the 
Devil, or of both, in devoting you to your present 
mode of life, Cl will terminate in good or ill," is not 
" yet to be proved," for it is great and dangerous 
ill now ; but whether you will be prevailed upon to 
leave the society of the worthless, and associate with 
the good; whether you shall be an heir of misery, 
or a daughter of never-ceasing felicity, is yet to be 
ascertained by yourself and your friends. 

Why should you ask your mother's prayers, if 
you will not pray for yourself ? She prays God, 
however, for those things which you do not suppli- 
cate, that you may be reclaimed, and may become a 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 201 

respectable, useful, happy woman. Were your 
prayers to unite with hers in relation to these ob- 
jects, they would soon be answered to the joy of her 
bleeding heart. At any rate, should your mother 
never behold you again with satisfaction, her fervent 
petitions would return with balmy peace, into her 
own bosom. She shall not pray in vain, so far as 
she is concerned, but you may not be improved by 
her tears and intercessions. 

" Should it please the Amighty to cut the frail 
thread of your existence" in this life, before you are 
brought to love, and obey the Lord Jesus Christ, 
instead of being happy, instead of escaping trials 
and temptations, you would drop like lead into the 
abyss of everlasting misery. You are not prepared 
for death, and do not consider its consequences. It 
would be no consolation to leave your present mor- 
tifications, and sorrows, for everlasting contempt, 
unceasing agony of conscience, and the sensible in- 
dignation of the Holy God. Oh ! think of this 
warning, and, before it is too late, return unto the 
Lord with weeping. 

I am glad that you contrast your present situation 
in life with what it might have been ; and I conjure 
you to compare it, with what it may yet be. You 
may yet be restored to the favour of your good mo- 
ther, and to the friendship of the excellent ones of 
the earth ; may yet become a beloved wife to 
some suitable man, who may pay you every kind at- 
tention ; may become the joyful mother of children, 
and in a good old age die in their arms ; may be- 



202 APPENDIX. 

come a true Christian, and finally ascend to glory. 
All this may be ; or the dreadful reverse of every 
thing which should be desired. Choose then be- 
tween good and evil. Think not that you have 
proceeded too far to become wise, and the object of 
much honourable affection. If you have any dis- 
position to be reconciled to the Redeemer, and, 
through his peace-speaking blood of atonement, to 
yourself, it is not too late. Immediately accept the 
pardon of all your sins, because the God of truth, 
has offered a free remission, for the sake of the suf- 
ferings of Christ, but not of your mother, whose 
afflictions you vainly hope will propitiate heaven in 
your favour. Then, with the hope of everlasting 
life and love, commence a life of sober usefulness 
and habitual duty. You will find wisdom's ways 
to be pleasantness. 

In vain you ask your mother not to be unhappy, 
if you continue to imbitter her state of poverty and 
desertion. Be a dutiful daughter; renounce the 
stage and its fictitious beings for ever ; become a 
Christian, and your peace shall be like the river of 
God, your felicity with your pious mother shall be 
everlasting. 

Accept my assurances of assistance in every pos- 
sible way, and believe that your happiness, in con- 
junction with that of your friends, and the glory of 
God, is the sole object of this communication from 
your friend, 

EZRA STILES ELY. 
Miss M , at Mrs. Barnham?s y 

Liberty-street, New-Tor k. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 203 

LETTER FROM MISS L— * M — , TO HER MOTHER. 

New-York, August 13th, 1814. 
Viy dear Mother, 

ACCEPT my sincere thanks for your kind 
letter. It gave a very sensible pleasure to my heart. 
i ? Twas a consolation for the anxiety I have felt on 
your account. I was apprehensive you were ill, 
or that some misfortune had happened. I thank 
i God that is not the case. 

Dear mother, how shall I thank Mr. Ely for the 
interest which he is good enough to take in my 
welfare, who am so unworthy of kindness? But I 
; will exert myself to deserve a continuance of it, that 
i it may Ultimately terminate in good. I will merit 
that desired esteem, by my obedience to your wish, 
and acceptance of his counsel. His letter was im- 
pressive, and spoke to my heart, but 'tis hardened 
by the vanities of the world. I hope in the 
mercy of heaven, and that, through its grace, I 
may yet partake of that divine spirit, of which he 
is so able a minister. Present my acknowledge- 
ments, and assure him, though severe, his letter may 
heal the wound it was intended to probe. I fear 
I have gone too far to realize much happiness, 
but there is one reflection which will afford me con- 
solation ; — that I have passed so far with a mind 
uncontaminated. Free from licentiousness of de- 
pravity, the purity of your example, my mother, 
was before my eyes. Though I have been fond of 
the broad glare of fashionable life, and induced to 



204 APPENDIX. 

embrace a profession religion cannot sanction, yet 
'twas not from weakness of mind, but because I saw 
through a false medium. With the sanguine ar- 
dour of youth, I possessed a strong desire for novel- 
ty, and an acquaintance with the world. Unpro- 
tected, that desire led me into errour. My adop- 
tion of the stage is the most glaring. My future 
conduct can alone atone for that. I no longer see 
any pleasure in this kind of life, but what I am 
going to say will appear a paradox. 

I had promised to remain the ensuing season, with 
the Theatre. I thought it would appear unkind, as 
he (Mr. Twaits, since dead, who took her to New- 
York) depends on me for assistance ; and, though 
I dislike the appearance of deceit, I think some- 
thing of the kind must be done, to induce the mana-» 
gers to part with me : — you must plead indisposi- 
tion, or at once order me to return home for some 
particular purpose. There is no difficulty in the 
journey, as Mrs. B — is going to Philadelphia. I 
shall be anxious until you write again. I would 
have sent a letter to Mr. Ely, but felt incapable of 
thanking him as I wish and ought ; but if you de- 
sire it I will; though I hope to have the pleasure 
of expressing my gratitude, when I shall have made 
some atonement for my folly. 

Adieu, my dear Mother, and believe me your 
affectionate, though mistaken daughter, 

L— M— . 
Mrs.A—M— 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 205 

XETTER FROM MISS L— M , TO HER MOTHER. 

New-Tor k, September 4th, 1814. 
Dear Mother, 

BY this time I suppose you have received my 
last letter, in which I informed you of my inten- 
tion; but I must confess pecuniary embarrassments 
have prevented me from forming a decided plan. 
My shallow purse is now empty. I will be happy 
to accept your proposition, provided you do not be- 
come accountable for payment of the sum : that I 
will do, should fortune place it in my power. At 
the same time, though I thank the person, I should 
not like to be under an obligation to a person whom 
I may have offended.** You can judge of the pro- 
priety of the thing better than I. If you think the 
plan eligible, have the goodness to procure for me 
ten dollars, the smallest possible sum, that will an- 
swer. If not, I will endeavour to procure it here. 
Please to write immediately, as I am anxious to 
arrange my business. There will be some difficulty, 
which I have foreseen. The managers have been 

* Her mother had written her, that a gentleman had offer* 
ed to send her on the means of returning, if necessary ; but 
did not inform her who that gentleman was. The daughter- 
thought it might have been a person of her former acquain- 
tance, who might make an improper use of the renewal of 
his kindness, if his proffered money were accepted. This 
was the occasion of her hesitating to receive the aid which 
her mother had promised to afford, by the assistance of the 
writer of this note. 



206 APPENDIX. 

sending after me, constantly, since the opening of 
the Theatre. My plea is, indisposition, which will 
continue till I arrive in Philadelphia. Mrs. B — m 
is going on to reside, so that I shall have no ac- 
quaintance remaining. Poor Twaits is much re- 
gretted.* He was a friend to me: I hope his 
sufferings have made ample compensation for his 
errours. 

Give my sincere love to the family and my friends. 
God bless you. I remain in the hope of seeing you 
by this day week. Your affectionate daughter, 

L— -M-. 
Mrs. A. M. 

With the foregoing letter the mother called on 
me, that I might have the pleasure of fulfilling my 
promise. The mother is a pious, genteel, indus- 
trious, poor woman ; who lives by sewing and wash- 
ing. When she came, I had lately commenced 
housekeeping, and she brought as a present, in these 
hard-times, a pound of "imperial gun-powder tea." 
It would not do to hurt her feelings by refusing it ; 
so I took it with a determination to present it back 
again in some other way. While my rich friends 
were sending me of their abundance, she of her 
penury was testifying her respect, by presenting me 



* This actor, who induced her to ascend the stage, had 
lately died; and probably this contributed to make her relin- 
quish the theatre. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 207 

all she was worth. When I determined to return 
her gift, without making her sensible of it, I had no 
reference to the following communication. 

to miss l — m — . 

Philadelphia, September 7th, 1814. 
IF Miss L — M — will return to her mother, she 
shall be welcome to the enclosed bill ; and may be 
assured that she shall never be accounted the debtor 
of 

EZRA STILES ELY. 

Not long after the expected time of her arrival, 
the glad mother called to inform me, that her daugh> 
ter, who once was lost, was now restored to her 
house and arms* It soon became necessary that 
some business should be provided for her j and I 
requested Mrs. K — , whose benevolent exertions to 
assist Caroline had been disappointed, to take the 
young actress under her protection. She consented, 
and for several months found her the means of sub- 
sistence. It was difficult, however, to procure per- 
manent support for her. " She was too handsome," 
Mrs. K— said, " and too delicately attired, to tend 
shop, for every one gazed at her;" and plain sewing 
was rarely furnished a stranger. While she lived 
with this lady, she received the following letter. 



208 APPENDIX. 

To Miss L— M— . 

Philadelphia, Feb. 15, 1815. 

IT has long been my intention to write you, Miss 
M — , that I might congratulate you on your present 
favourable circumstances, and endeavour to commu- 
nicate some more perfect knowledge of the way of 
salvation, than you appear at present to possess. 

You have been kindly received by a lady of a very 
benevolent heart, who will undoubtedly furnish you 
with profitable employment, and give you much 
more impressive advice about your future conduct 
in the world, than I am capable of offering. In her 
maternal care and patronage of you, I am highly de- 
lighted, and shall, therefore, confine my letter to the 
subject of personal religion. You hear my public 
discourses, and perhaps may wonder, if I deem this 
insufficient, that I should not gain a knowledge of 
your person, to instruct you in conversation, rather 
than adopt the present mode. Indeed I have felt 
some curiosity to see you, and some desire to con- 
verse with you ; but, upon the whole, I think you 
had better read, and read again, what I shall write, 
than hear the same from my lips. In alluding to 
the death of T waits, you write to your mother, that 
you " hope his sufferings have made ample coi?ipen- 
sat'zonfor his errours" 

This is the theology of the theatre, and no better 
ihan the morality of the stage. I am ashamed to 
say, however, that it is the language of some public 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 209 

teachers of religion, from the pulpit. Those er- 
roursj of which you wrote, were flagrant sins; were 
violations of the holy, just, and good law of the per- 
fect Deity. They were offences against the known 
will of him who created, preserved, and, in a thou- 
sand events of Providence, blessed the offender. 
They were in many instances crimes against the 
creatures of God, and in all instances, rebellion 
against the moral government of Jehovah. They 
were such thoughts, sentiments, feelings, words, and 
actions as God had forbidden, and such as have in- 
curred all the misery which man experiences. That 
there are great grief, sorrow, disappointment, vexa- 
tion, bodily pain, and mental anguish endured by the 
sons of men in the present life, you must allow ; and 
that all the afflictions of sinners are either permitted 
or regulated by Divine Providence, is equally cer- 
tain. But, why does the good God suffer his crea- 
tures to be weighed down with pain ? Certainly it is 
owing to this, that God is displeased with men for 
their transgressions. Their err ours are of such a 
nature as to bring down constant testimonies of his 
indignation ; and the greatness of any man's suffer- 
ings is but a proof of the great evil of sin. It 
does not follow, that he who suffers most here is 
the most obnoxious sinner, for the account between 
God and rebels is not to be balanced in this life, 
neither does he design to give mortals his compara-* 
tive view of the character of offenders ; but great 
suffering, in any one, does show, that he deserves 
great punishment, and that the person whom we 
s2 



210 APPENDIX. 

deem most innocent, is, in God's estimation, a guil- 
ty wretch. How, then, can you think the sufferings 
of Twaits, which proved God to be angry with him, 
any compensation for his errours P A compensation 
to whom ? And, how can merited suffering in any 
ease be accounted a compensation for sin ? If any 
man had a servant who should drink arsenic and 
die, would his dying be any compensation to his 
master for the loss of his services ; or could the pain 
of dying make any satisfaction for the crime of self- 
murder I If the father of a family should, by his ne- 
gligence and debauchery, reduce his family to hun- 
ger, thirst, cold, and nakedness, would his suffer- 
ings, or theirs, make any compensation, to any one^ 
for his guilty conduct ? Again, should a thief, hav- 
ing stolen my money, waste it, and then be con- 
fined in the prison for his conduct, would his distress 
in his dungeon restore me my money ? 

When sinners suffer, God punishes them, and the 
punishment which they receive, in part, here, makes 
no compensation at all, but rather furnishes a pre- 
sumption, that they will, in future, receive the re- 
mainder of the wrath which they deserve. By suf- 
fering all which our sins deserve, (if we could do it 
in any given time,) we might be excused from suf- 
fering any more ; but this would be no compensa- 
tion to our holy Creator and Preserver for the dis- 
honour done him. Had Twaits suffered as much 
as God thinks his errours deserve, he might have 
gone to a place, if any such existed, where he would 
have felt neither any happiness nor any punishment. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 211 

But, in the judgment of Jehovah, every sinner de- 
serves more suffering than any mere man ever expe- 
rienced in this life ; and, therefore, the Supreme 
Being has resolved, that the wicked shall be turned 
into hell, and that the whole amount of punishment 
which he awards to them, shall be spread out through 
eternity. If Twaits, or you, or I, or any other sin- 
ner, will deal with the Holy God, upon the ground 
of our personal merits, and the principles of justice ; 
or if any one will talk of making compensation to 
the judge, he must expect justice, and in this justice, 
eternal damnation. If you speak of justice, merit, 
and compensation, you must not expect mercy, com- 
passion, and love. 

Let me show you a more excellent way of salva- 
tion, than that which you have contemplated, and 
which is impracticable for a sinner. It is a way 
which God, of his infinite benevolence, originated 
and revealed : it is the way of salvation by his be- 
loved Son Jesus Christ* It is styled a new and 
living way ; and is expressly designed for those 
who have come short of the glory of God, who have 
no ability to justify themselves before God, and who 
might, with perfect justice, be made miserable for 
ever. It is designed for you and me. Oh ! that 
you might know this way of life ! 

Remember that God is immutably just, and de- 
termined, before the world began, to punish all 
transgressions of his holy law. He can no more fail 
of punishing every sin, according to its full demerit, 
than he can cease to be true to his own word and 



212 APPENDIX. 

character. Remember, also, that God immutab- 
ly resolved to provide a sinless human body and 
soul, created by himself, that should, in the time ap- 
pointed, be united to the eternal God, so as to consti- 
tute the one person, Jesus Christ. This one per- 
son, of complex character, by the consent of the 
Father, and by his own covenant, undertook to bear 
all the punishment due to a great portion of the hu- 
man race, and to perform a perfect obedience to the 
law of God, on their account. What he engaged to do, 
was actually done by him, for he was born of a vir- 
gin, was made under the law like a man ; obeyed the 
will of God perfectly, so as to fulfill all righteousness 
for his people, and suffered, in his humiliation, the 
wrath and curse of God, due to their crimes. In 
law, the death of Christ answered the same purpose 
that would have been accomplished, could all that 
will now be saved, have suffered the pains of hell 
for ever. Thus he redeemed them, and thus he 
laid the foundation of their pardon, justification, re- 
generation, and glorification in heaven. The death 
and resurrection of Christ, rendered the salvation 
of ever} 7 one for whom he died, absolutely certain ; 
and nothing short of this redemption, by Jesus, rerr- 
ders the salvation of any one even possible. Christ 
procured, by what he did in Judea, and on Calvary, 
all the benefits which will be enjoyed by an)' of our 
sinful racer His sufferings will save his people 
from suffering punishment. Corrected, as children*, 
they may be in this world, but the vengeance of Je- 
hovah shall never reach them. His obedience shall 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. ^213 

be rewarded in their everlasting felicity ; and for 
ever, and for ever, they shall glorify him as the be- 
ginning and the end of their salvation. He made 
all the compensation for the sins of God's people, 
which the judge will accept ; and if he atoned, we 
are not to atone ; if he merited heaven, we need 
not merit it, in order to enjoy it ; and if he saves 
us, we do not save ourselves. 

You will say, then, " if I am one of God's people, 
I shall be saved ; but if I am not, I shall be lost." 
In thus speaking you assert the truth ; and so far 
am I from shrinking from the conclusion, that I re- 
joice in it, as the only ground of my hope, that you 
may inherit everlasting bliss. Your inquiry should 
be, " How shall I become one of God's people ?" If 
you are his by the choice of the Almighty, he will 
become your God and Saviour, by your own choice. 
If he has chosen you, he will take measures to in- 
duce you to choose him ; and who can say, that this 
letter on the way of life, may not have been predes- 
tinated to move you to such an election ? You can 
become one of God's people actually, and be secure 
in a gracious title to eternal life, only by believing 
on the Lord Jesus Christ. You must be so tho- 
roughly convinced of you own sinfulness, and of 
the scriptural character of the Saviour, as thankful- 
ly to accept of proffered pardon, purification, and 
glory, with the solemn intention and earnest desire 
of being saved from sin, Satan, and hell. Do you 
desire a holy salvation ? Are you willing to submit 
yourself to God ? Are you completely satisfied with 



214 APPENDIX. 

the Redeemer God has provided ? Does this salva- 
tion seem great, and Christ, precious ? If you be- 
come one of the Lord's people by accepting of his 
" unspeakable gift," even of Jesus for righteousness, 
and strength before God, you will desire to please 
him ; you will hate sin, and strive to forsake it ; you 
will love holiness, and pursue it ; you will cherish 
the pious, and avoid the wicked ; you will pass 
away from hell, and enter heaven. 

Seek this saviour, whom your mother knows and 
loves. Be secure of heaven. Soon, the fact, and 
form, which they tell me are fair, (for I do not yet 
know you by sight,) will be laid in the grave, and 
your worldly connexions and pursuits will be cut off 
for ever. Soon your thoughts and employments 
will of necessity respect spiritual and eternal things ; 
and you will find in them heaven or hell. That you 
may be wise and happy — that you may shine as a 
star in the new heavens, which the Redeemer will 
create, when the material universe shall have van- 
ished, is the prayer of your friend in the Lord, 

EZRA STILES ELY. 
Miss £— M— . 

'vwwww 

Reply. 

Philadelphia, March 7th] 1815. 
Sir, 

A FEW feelings, which approximate slowly to 
good, would not permit me to rest, until I had writ- 
ten an apology for my apparent neglect of your ex- 
ertions for my welfare. 



SOME ACCOUNT OF AN ACTRESS. 215 

Believe me, Sir, it was not from want of inclina- 
tion, that your letters remain unanswered. It was 
because I felt my inability to reply as I ought, and 
consistently with your advice and inquiries. When 
attempting to write on that sacred subject, which 
you have adopted for my eternal happiness, my 
ideas were few, and expressed with difficulty. My 
heart is neither warm nor animated. In despair, I 
have relinquished the undertaking. 

Accept, therefore, the thanks of a grateful mind, 
deeply impressed with a sense of your goodness, and 
my own unworthiness — grateful for the kind interest 
you have taken in my fate. My own endeavours 
shall not be wanting, to render me more worthy the 
honour which youhave been pleased to confer. 
I remain, with respect, your obliged 

L— M— ,. 
Rev, E. S. Ely. 

•a* wvvwvw 

Not many months elapsed, after the date of the 
last letter, before Miss L — M — was addressed by 
a young gentleman of the stage, who is now manager 
of a theatre, and they were united in wedlock, by the 
Rev. Dr. A. Her husband is as estimable as any 
actor ; and probably as good a man as his profes- 
sional business will permit him to be. 

On the whole, I regret not any of the exertions 
which have been made ; for this young creature is 
in a better state than she was, and may yet be 
brought to Jesus Christ, that she may receive eter- 
nal life. 



216 APPENDIX. 

Let us not be weary in well-doing, for in due sea- 
son we shall reap, if we faint not. 

Let us also remember, that God bestows privi- 
leges, which are abused ; and is kind to the ungrate- 
ful and rebellious. Let us be imitators of God as 
dear children. 






APPENDIX 
part in. 



(WW/WWi 



CONTINUATION 



OF THE 



HISTORY OF CAROLINE 



APPENDIX. 

wvvw 

PART HI. 

VWVW 

Continuation of the History of Caroline. 



IWVWVWV* 



" Too late must Guendolen deplore, 
Ke, that has all, can hope no more !" 

IN a Note, appended to the 221st page of my 
first Journal, the reader is informed, that the 
mother of the person called Caroline, visited 
New- York, in the month of June, 1812, and saw 
her daughter at the Hospital, That portion of her 
history which has been already given to the public, 
is concluded by the following paragraph. 

" What will become of this miserably seduced 
person, remains to be decided by her own conduct. 
She may continue to behave well ; and she may fall 
more basely than ever. Over her real name, and 
perhaps all the future, should it be known to the 
writer, it will be best to draw the veil of night." 

For some reasons, which it is needless to detail at 
length, I am induced now, however, to give, so far 
as it has come to my knowledge, the sequel of her 
history. 



220 APPENDIX. 

For several days the mother of Caroline con- 
tinued in the city of New-York, visited her daugh- 
ter with much tenderness, and was very desirous 
of taking her home ; but the health of the young 
woman would not permit. 

I ne parent had expended all her little money, in 
her journey from S — k — e, (the place in which the 
writer found her, in the State of New- York,) to the 
city ; and therefore could not defray the necessary 
expense of waiting for her daughter's restoration. 
By the assistance of the writer, and a few other per- 
sons, she returned whence she came j with the en- 
couragement that Caroline should be sent after her, 
so soon as her physician should think her Jistida-— 
—effectually cured. 

From the return of her mother, until the latter 
part of July, 1812, Caroline continued in the Hospi- 
tal, and conducted herself in such a manner as to 
gain the good opinion of all who knew her. She 
was apparently humble, and penitent. Her desire 
to return to S — k — >e was ardent j and, before July 
had expired, the writer paid her passage, and pro- 
cured a respectable woman to see her safely out of 
the city. Indeed he was himself standing on the 
wharf, and saw her depart, with many tears of seem- 
ing pleasure and gratitude. By inquiry it was af- 
terwards ascertained, that she went directly to the 
place of her destination. 

In September, 1812, the writer received a letter, 
signed by L~ N— - , alias Caroline S — 11 ; and 
which bears the post-mark of the village of W— d, 



HISTORY OF CAROLINE. 221 

which is near to the place in S — k — e, in which 
he visited Mrs. M— N — , the mother, formerly 
called Mrs. M— S — 11. The following is an ex- 
tract from her 

LETTER. 

" Reverend Sir, 

" I TAKE this opportunity to write to you, 
(according to your request,) to express my grati- 
tude for extraordinary favours which I have re- 
ceived through your instrumentality, from that most 
benign and gracious Being, who is good unto all, 
and whose tender mercies are over all his works. 
And may the same Almighty God bless and pros- 
per you the better, in person, in your ministry, and 
in your property. I likewise recognize the kind- 
ness of your brother ; and send my best respects to 
him for his kindness, through the tender mercies of 
the Lord, of whom, through whom, and to whom, 
are all things. I hope his prosperity will, at the 
least, be equal to his liberality for the body, as well 
as the soul. 

u And also, please to remember my love to all 
others, whom God made kind friends to me ; to 
supply my wants, and take care of me in my sick- 
ness and trouble. May the Lord reward you all, a 
hundred fold. In particular, I wish to have my love 
remembered to Mr. and Mrs. V/etmore, and their 
family ; to Miss Hannah Christopher, to Mr. Jo- 
seph George, Mr. Joseph Smith, Mr. L. Bleecker, 
Mr. Comstock, and Dr. Osbourne, and all the other 
T2 



222 APPENDIX, 

doctors, that attended me during the time that I was 
sick. Blessed is he that considereth the poor — and 
— the Lord loveth a cheerful giver. 

" I meant to have bade the Society* farewell, but 
Mr. Ely advised me to go home ; and I thought 
that his advice might correspond with that of the 
Society. 

" My health is not much better than when I left 
New- York. I am with my mother ; who wishes to 
have her respects remembered to you, with acknow- 
ledgments of gratitude. 

" I mean to endeavour to keep your kind coun- 
sels : and please, Sir, to write to me j and if you 
can ever make it in your way, come to see us ; and 
don't forget to pray for me at the throne of grace ; 
but please to remember us all : for we are all poor 
sinners, and therefore need prayers ; but especially 
the all-prevailing intercession of the everlasting Ad- 
vocate. 



** I remain your friend, and ever well-wisher, &c. 

« L— N — " 

The letter contains the principal part of two 
hymns, of which she was very fond; and which I 
have omitted, because they are generally known. 

From the time of Caroline's return to her mother, 
until the present, the writer has never seen her ; nor 
has he had any other direct communication from 
her : for the remainder of her history, therefore, he 
is indebted to testimony. 

* The Magdalen Society. 



HISTORY OF CAROLINE. 22S 

Of her mother it is necessary to remark, that she 
is poor, and now dependent on her own industry, 
and the assistance of her children ; so that she could 
scarcely be said to have a home of her own ; and 
much less one in which she could give a feeble 
daughter such support as would be desirable. It is 
also to be remembered, that Caroline, when she left 
New- York, was not so firm as to be capable of hard 
labour. 

Her fistula was not radically removed ; and not 
many months after the date of her letter, I was in- 
formed that she had come again to the city of New- 
York, to obtain medical aid. She came down the 
river Hudson in a packet, and on her arrival was 
ashamed, either to resort to the Hospital, or to seek 
her former friends. To one of the abandoned 
44 boarding houses" she was determined not to-com- 
mit her person ; and in this state of indecision, 
without plan or purpose ; cold, hungry, and sick, she 
wandered about the streets, until she reclined on the 
threshold of an elegant house, and became almost as 
insensible as her marble couch. 

Late at night, she was found in this position, by 
the hospitable pair to whose door Providence had 
led her. They brought her in, and were deeply af- 
fected at her pitiable state j for she was delicate, 
and even graceful in her appearance j and it seemed 
as if life was lingering in its departure from her dis- 
consolate bosom. 

Mrs. O — acted the part of an elder sister ; and 
called in the medical assistance of Dr. Osbourne, 



224 APPENDIX. 

who perfectly knew his patient. The old complaint, 
and not at, all a disgraceful one, still required atten- 
tion. In this abode of benevolence and wealth she 
told her tale, and enjoyed every comfort which the 
house afforded. Such was her appearance of mo- 
desty and penitence, that Mrs. O — was fully per- 
suaded that her life had never been that of a com- 
mon woman. She was undoubtedly the victim of 
an unhappy, sinful attachment, to an unprincipled 
man. After having been nursed like a child, until 
her health was more perfectly restored than it ever 
had been before, Mrs. O — clothed her, in a suit- 
able manner, and even took her to church in her 
own carriage. At length it was thought desirable 
that she should return to her relatives ; and her be- 
nevolent guardian sent her away, with all needful 
pecuniary assistance, to visit her brother Lorenzo, 
in the State of Massachusetts. Whether she went 
to Cambridge, the place of her brother's residence, 
or not, is to us uncertain. She may have gone ; and 
if she did, her brother is younger than herself, and 
is dependent on an aunt, so that he could not have 
supported her long. 

The next time I heard of her was in May, A. D» 
1814. I was then in New- York j and was inform- 
ed by Mr. Thomas Franklin, a Friend, indeed, in 
whom there is no guile, that Caroline had lately 
written to him, and desired him to give her thanks 
to me. 

She was then in the society of Shakers, in the 
town of New-Lebanon, in the State of New-York, 



HISTORY OF CAROLINE. 225 

and sent word " that she was among the blessed." 
She had been there for some time, and many of us 
congratulated one another, that their forbidding to 
marry, and causing even the wedded to forsake 
wedlock, might prove of service to her, by afford- 
ing her a seclusion from the world, in a state of so- 
ciety in which perpetual celibacy is perpetual ho- 
nour. If this doctrine of devils, that sinners ought 
not to marry, can be profitable to any, it must be 
profitable to those only who cannot honestly marry. 

Happy would it have it been, perhaps, for Caro- 
line, had she continued all her life with those who 
pretend to have all things in common, even had she 
submitted to the hardest labour, which is rigorously 
imposed by the Elders, or task-masters, of " this 
New Jerusalem. " She would have seen, indeed, 
in this village of equal rights, and common proper- 
ty, that the heaps of oyster-shells, indicative of good 
living, were much larger, before the small dwellings 
of the rulers, where few reside, than before large 
houses, which contain many of the brethren and sis- 
terhood ; but, what then ? She would have been 
fed, and clothed, and kept from that child of the 
Devil, who has once and again deceived her. 

From May, the writer heard nothing of this un- 
accountable female, until the evening of the 12th of 
November, 1814 ; at which time Mr. M C A — call- 
ed on him, at his residence in Philadelphia, to intro- 
duce Mrs. M — K — . This lady, whom the read- 
er will be happy to become familiar with, by peru- 
sing the following pages, has all the enthusiasm in 



226 APPENDIX. 

doing good, which some have, undeservedly, I fear, 
charged upon the Journalist. 

It seems that her attention had been this very 
day, for the first time, directed to the former sketch- 
es of Caroline. The description of her was precise- 
ly a picture of Sarah How ; and she had called to 
ascertain if they were not names of the same person. 

To the unfortunate Sarah How, Mrs. K — had 
become known in the month of August, 1814. Sa- 
rah had been invited, by a letter from a young offi- 
cer, (who, by her own account, was the seducer 
who first brought her away from her mother's house, 
and a state of comparative innocence,) to visit Phila- 
delphia, and call for him, her admirer, at the City 
Hotel. She was fool enough to believe his vows of 
love, protection, and matrimony, after he had re- 
peatedly broken them. 

She arrived in the city of Philadelphia on Satur- 
day, and, on calling at the Hotel, found that the gen- 
tleman for whom she inquired had departed, the day 
before, for a different military station. Here then 
she was, an attractive, destitute female, in a strange 
city, without either money or friends. She wander- 
ed about, and received little sustenance, until Mon- 
day evening, when, in consequence of drinking cold 
water on a very hot day, she sat down, and swooned 
upon the steps of one of our banks. Her delicate 
form, pale face, and neat attire, soon attracted the 
sympathy of those who were passing. She was car- 
ried, apparently lifeless, into a book-store, and the 
greatest exertions were made to recall her powers 



HISTORY OF SARAH HOW. 227 

of mind. On being a little recovered, she was kind- 
ly received into the house of Mr. C— -, a Friend, and 
the brother of Mrs. K — . These persons, with 
their neighbours, mutually strove to promote her 
health and comfort. Sarah confessed that she had 
been led astray, and had sinned ; but still appeared 
extravagantly attached to the unprincipled deceiver. 
Her actual weeping for many days was unceasing. 
Her mother and her brother, far absent from her, 
and distressed on her account, were her constant 
theme of lamentation. Every person, who saw and 
heard her, felt compassion, for she was evidently 
agonized by an upbraiding conscience, and all the 
madness of unreclaimed, disappointed, indulged 
love. For her sins she professed penitence, but ap- 
parently had not firmness enough for ever to dis- 
card the unworthy officer from her heart. 

"Each charm she varied, to retain 
A varying heart — and all in vain!" 

Among others who took a deep interest in her 
distresses, and endeavoured to alleviate them, were 
Mrs. M'A — , and Mr. M— 11, a Friend, who de- 
serve as much praise, as they could do, had they 
actually succeeded in saving a young wanderer from 
perdition. After Sarah had remained some time at 
Mr. C — 's, she was removed to the house of Mrs. 
K — , where she was encouraged and exhorted to do 
well. Her conduct was here, for a few months, un- 
exceptionable, so far as any could then judge ; but it 
subsequently appeared that she had given a false ac- 
count of herself. • 



228 APPENDIX. 

The interest Mrs. K— felt in her, and a desire to 
serve her, induced many close interrogatories, which, 
from time to time, tempted the unwise girl to give a 
history of herself, which involved her in new dis- 
tress, and almost daily difficulty. She was evident- 
ly reluctant to give any history of herself; but hav- 
ing given a part erroneously, felt herself obliged, for 
the sake of consistency, to make out the whole of 
her story. 

I have sometimes thought, that in the case of 
Caroline, all of us, who endeavoured to assist her, 
erred, in being too inquisitive about her relatives 
and former circumstances. She did not love to 
state the truth, that her mother is poor, and could 
not afford much assistance to a helpless daughter. 
Nothing gave her more immediate and sensible pain 
than our attempts to gain a knowledge of her fritnds, 
and our determination to write to them. The same 
was remarked of Sarah How. 

Mrs. K — , having learned, as she supposed, the 
truth concerning Sarah, wrote to her friends, and 
wrote again ; after which, Sarah, fearing detection, 
and being overcome with shame, eloped from her 
guardian. 

On the evening of her absenting herself from 
Mrs. K — 's, she walked the streets until weariness 
compelled her to recline on the steps of a door in 
Spruce-street. Here Mr. Samuel Coates, the most 
active and indefatigable of the governors of the Hos- 
pital, found her, chilled and speechless ; and, by the 
assistance of another gentleman, conducted her to 



HISTORY OF SARAH HOW. 229 

the palace for the sick. Providence seems always 
to have interposed in behalf of this kmale ; for 
when she wanders she is found by those, who, like 
Job, search out the cause which they know not. 

At the Hospital, her appearance, her story, and 
most of all, her unrestrained tears, excited the ten- 
derest pity. Mr. Mason and his wife, (the exem- 
plary pair who are the guardian angels of the insti- 
tution, and who have never been exceeded by any in 
a similar situation, unless it be by Noah Wetmore 
and his lately deceased partner, who has been called 
away to heaven ;) with the physicians and governors 
were all solicitous to restore the unhappy creature 
to her native state, and to her mother. 

The next morning she was removed to the Aims- 
house, and the Guardians of the Poor soon furnish- 
ed means for defraying her expense to New- York; 
and thither she went. 

On her passage, however, she travelled, as she 
says, with a young man, who told her, that she must 
be the person of whom his friend, Mr. Mc— , a 
young officer, had often spoken to him, and that the 
said Mc— was in New-York, and wished to see 
her, because he had in his possession a trunk of her 
clothing. Let this be as it may, she went to New- 
York, and in the evening, in the street, a Mr. J— , a 
respectable citizen, saw a young officer, supposed to 
be Mc — , attempting to urge her away with him. 
She resisted, and exclaimed that he hurt her arm 2 
which had lately been bled. Mr. J — stepped up, 
^and the young officer retreated, while his prey fled : 
u 



230 APPENDIX. 

so that the interposing gentleman probably expected 
to see neither of the parties again. She ran, however, 
while he returned home, and, without any know- 
ledge of Mr. J — or his house, seated herself, dis- 
consolate, on his threshold. He demanded why 
she saj there, late at night ; and was informed, that 
she had no home ; that a young officer had promised 
to marry her ; and that the same officer had that 
very afternoon endeavoured to drag her away to a 
house of ill-fame. Mr. J — , knowing that this was 
the female whom he had seen escape from an officer 
but a short time before, brought her into his family, 
and, by the assistance of his wife, endeavoured to 
alleviate her distress. For some time she found a 
home, and none who saw her could avoid believing, 
that she was a heart-broken, deluded, artless, peni- 
tent creature. 

Mrs. K — was all anxiety after Sarah left her in 
Philadelphia, and learning what had transpired at 
the Hospital, followed her to New- York, and, by an 
advertisement, found her under the protection of 
Mr. J — Still hoping to be of essential service to 
her, and to transmit her to her mother, Mrs. K — 
brought her to the house of her friends, Mr. and 
Mrs. N — n, of Chatham-street, New- York, with 
whom she found protection and peace for many- 
weeks, and with whom she resided on the 12th of 
November, the time when Mrs. K— and Mr. 
M l A — called on the writer. 

" Caroline, or L. N — ," said I, " had long dark 
hair, which very naturally curled around her fore- 



HISTORY OF SARAH HOW. 231 

head ; a fair skin, with blue eyes j a good set of 
teeth ; and a delicate hand. Her form was above 
the middle stature of females, erect, and well pro- 
portioned." 

Mrs. K — exclaimed, " You describe our Sarah 
to perfection !" 

" Caroline," I resumed, " was uncommonly fond 
of bathing her hands, and face, &c. so that the phy- 
sicians frequently blamed her." 

" The very same !" said Mrs. K — •, " for Sarah was 
continually at the wash-bowl !" 

To ascertain the fact, I wrote to Mr. Noah Wet- 
more, of the New- York Hospital, and requested him 
to call at Mr. N— n's and see Sarah liow. He did 
so, and behold, Caroline was overwhelmed at his 
presence. 

These circumstances will be more feelingly de- 
tailed, than I am able to narrate them, by the follow- 
ing Letter, from Mrs. K— , to the mother of this 
interesting, deluded, miserable girl. 

COPY. 

. Philadelphia, December 4th, 1814, 

Kesi'ected Madam, 

I understand your daughter L — has long 
been a wanderer from you. She came to this city 
on the 12th of August last, in search of the young 
man, who had seduced her from the path of recti- 
tude ; but on her arrival in this place she was disap- 
pointed in finding him. In consequence of her 
drinking some cold* water on a hot day, she was 



232 ARPENDIX. 

taken seriously ill in the street, and was brought to 
the house of my brother, who lived near to the spot 
on which she became insensible. At his house I 
visited her, and being interested for a destitute 
young female., who carried the marks of respecta- 
bility and artlessness about her, I invited her to my 
abode, where I wished her to remain, until means 
could bedevised for sending her safely home. She 
staid with me two months, in which time she suffer- 
ed much, both in sickness and sorrow. She deeply 
mourned her situation, deplored her separation from 
" her dear, affectionate mother," and earnestly de- 
sired to see you and receive your forgiveness. She 
also talked much of "a pious brother, Lorenzo," 
and lamented that she had not attended to his fre- 
quent, good advice. She seldom spoke of this 
brother without tears. 

I proposed writing to her friends, but she object- 
ed, saying, " she wished to get nearer to you, before 
you should be informed where she was, lest her 
great distance from you should add to your trou- 
ble." But I have since discovered, that she said 
this to avoid telling us, or, in order to prevent us 
from finding out exactly, where her home is. At 
that time she told me you lived " in Quebec." I 
then wrote to you without her knowledge, and was. 
anxiously expecting a letter from you, when the 
gentleman who carried my letter to Quebec return- 
ed, saying you were not to be found at that place. 
I then remonstrated with your daughter for having 
deceived me in this matter. She was confused, and 



HISTORY OF CAROLINE. 232 

appeared to be grieved that she had done so : and 
then told me that your place of residence was Guild- 
hall, in the state of Vermont. I wrote immediately 
to you at Guildhall, but before 1 could receive an 
answer, she thought proper, on Friday morning the 
21st of October last, without my knowledge, to ab- 
sent herself from my house, with an intention, it 
seems, of going home alone* She however wander- 
ed in the streets of Philadelphia until the evening of 
that day, when she was taken by one of our citizens 
to the Hospital. 

She informed the Matron and one of the mana- 
gers, " that she lived in the state of Vermont ; that 
she had left her home with a young man; that she 
was separated from him, and never expected to see 
him again ; that she was in great trouble; that she 
desired to return home to her mother; and that, if 
they would send her on towards her home, she 
should always remember their kindness with grati- 
tude. 

Some worthy persons compassionated her dis- 
tress, furnished her with funds sufficient to carry her 
on to New- York, and at three o'clock in the after- 
noon of Saturday, (the 22d of October,) one of them 
attended her to the packet, which sailed immedi- 
ately. 

I made every enquiry, but could hear nothing of 
her until she had left this city ; when I learned from 
a person at the Almshouse, how, and when, and 
whither she had gone. In a few days a letter was 
received from New-York, giving some intelligence 
u 2 



234 APPENDIX. 

of her. I went thither ; but could not prevail on her 
to return with me to Philadelphia, and stay at my 
house, until I heard from you. I therefore left her 
in New-York, under the protection of a respectable 
family, (Mr. J — N — 's, in Chatham-street,) by 
which she has been treated with much kindness, and 
with which she still remains. 

If it were possible for her brother to come on to 
New- York and conduct her home, he would be a 
desirable companion to her, and, I suppose, a proper 
protector ; and a word of comfort from you, brought 
to her by him, whom she so dearly loves, would 
cheer and encourage the poor mourner's heart. 

I fully believe that she earnestly wishes to regain 
the path of virtue; and I doubt not she is sincere 
and earnest in her desires, u that the grace of God 
may enable her to spend the remnant of her days in 
the service of her Divine Master, and in affection- 
ate duty to her mother." 

In your sorrow, dear Madam, I most sincerely 
sympathize, as I have also done in that of your mis- 
led, but artless and repentant child. 

I would thank you to tell me the name, and place 
of residence of the young man who beguiled your 
drughter from her school; at what time this hap- 
pened, and from what place she was taken ; and 
whether she returned home to you after she recov- 
ered at the New- York Hospital : and if so, when 
and vyith whom she went away from you again. 
Excuse, clear Madam, these questions from a stran- 
ger : I do assure you they proceed not from an idle 






HISTORY OF CAROLINE. 235 

curiosity ; but from a real concern which I feel in 
the fate of your child. She has so truly interested 
me in her welfare, that I have been, and still am sin- 
cerely desirous to serve her; and shall always wish 
to hear from her. You will therefore much oblige 
me by writing to me immediately, and giving me 
any information relative to her. 

I am, with esteem, dear Madam, your sincere 
friend, 

M— K— . 

P. 3. December 6th y 1814. 
Dear Madam, 

I HAVE just received a letter from New- York, 
which informs me your daughter has left that place. 
On Tuesday the 29th of November, with the ap- 
probation and assistance of Mr. and Mrs. N n r 

she embarked in the steam-boat for T .* I 

would hope she may proceed directly home : but 
while she was in New- York, I have reason to be- 
lieve that she saw the man, (whoever he is,) who 
has been the cause of all her sorrows : and as, not- 
withstanding all she hay suffered, I think she is 
still too much attached to this enemy of her soul's 
welfare ; my fears are, that he may ag.iin in her 
journey home meet with her, and lead her away* 
What can be done ? Have you friends near you, 
who will exert themselves to save your child ? Alas 1 
she is in a most dangerous situation ! 

* X*— is, a. place near S— k— e, 



236 APPENDIX. 

With earnest prayers that you may soon havs 

the happiness to embrace your child, I subscribs 
myself her and your sincere friend, 

M. K — 

Mrs. M N 

After the second restoration of Caroline to her 
mother, I heard nothing, upon which I could place 
dependance ; until her mother, Mrs. M — N — s 
the very woman whom I visited in S— k — e, called 
at my door in Philadelphia, on the 25th of Septem- 
ber, 1815, and assured me, that on the 20th of 
March last, the subject of this history was duly 
united in the bonds of wedlock to a young farmer, 
with whom she now lives happily ; and gives evi- 
dence of a thorough reformation. The name of 
Caroline's husband I have in my possession, but I 
suppress even the initials of it, and the place of their 
residence, from regard to their welfare. 

The mother appeared to be happy indeed, in com- 
municating this intelligence to me ; and her cup, for 
a poor woman, would have been full, had not the 
insanity of another daughter brought her to this, 
city, in hope of obtaining for her a place in our Hos- 
pital. 

What the future conduct of Caroline (for I must 
still call her by this name) will be, I cannot presume 
to foretell; but if after many, many severities, she- 
shall fulfill her mother's expectations, happy will be. 
her lot, and blessed the exertions of those who have-, 
faithfully sought her salvation* 



HISTORY OF CAROLINE. 23? 

That her history may accomplish some valuable 
end, I beg leave to suggest a few remarks. 

1. If Caroline is reclaimed, let none imagine that 
cases of reformation are frequent ; for perhaps in no 
one instance have more providential interferences 
combined to save a sinner, than have been conspicu- 
ous in relation to her. She has been reduced to the 
greatest extremities, and then God in his mercy has 
brought to her relief, Mrs. O— -»-, Mrs. K — ., Mr, 
M— 11, Mr. T. C— , Mr. C-^, Mr. and Mrs. 
M 4 A— , Mr. and Mrs. N— n, and Mr. J— : be- 
sides those who were acquainted with the former 
part of her history. Not one in a thousand who; 
deviates from the path of purity can ever expect 
such means to be used for their recovery j and yet 
she is scarcely saved. 

Besides, it is to be remembered that Caroline ap- 
pears to have manifested a strong and uniform ve^ 
gard for the individual who proved her ruin ; which 
afforded better ground of hope that she might be re- 
claimed than generally subsists in these cases. 

2. Nothing is more likely to be injurious to a 
person of ardent affections, than indecision of cha- 
racter. Caroline seems to have been grieved, 
ashamed, sad, miserable, and even solicitous to live 
as she ought ; but she was always wavering in her 
plans, and doubtful of every purpose. To this X 
attribute the long continuance of her difficulties; 
the commencement of many a fictitious history of 
herself; and the final utterance of a thousand lies, 
which involved her, and those who desired to serve 
her, in constant perplexities. 



238 APPENDIX. 

3. Those who would reclaim the seduced, should 
not be too inquisitive about the friends and the cir- 
cumstances of the fallen, lest the guilty should, from 
pride and shame, be tempted to deceive. Indeed, 
those Societies which receive and endeavour to res- 
cue such persons, xvithout asking any questions, act 
upon the most liberal plan, and one which is most 
likely to be useful. Take them once, if they ask 
protection from the Hospital or the Magdalen 
Asylum, but take heed not to receive any the second 
time. 

4. How dark, how deep, how awful must be the 
pit into which one is plunged by a single act of li- 
centiousness! Not one of a thousand ever sees the 
light of society again. 

5. Consider, thou deceiver, that in connexion 
with thyself, another person is almost inevitably 
dragged down to perdition. 

6. Finally; if any sympathy for a ruined daugh- 
ter ; if the anguish of parents, who have lost their 
child; if the fear of rottenness in thy bones; if 
public infamy ; if secret remorse of conscience; if 
the horrors of hell, in company with those, whose 
destruction thou hast sealed ; if the hopes of heaven 
can move thee, young man, 

" FLEE YOUTHFUL LUSTS/' 



APPENDIX. 
PART IV. 



vwwww 



SEVERAL HYMNS, 

COMPOSED 

BY E. 8. ELY, 

FOR THE USE OF THE AFFLICTED, 
AND OTHERS. 



APPENDIX 



PAKT IV. 



HYMNS FOR SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 

www 

HYMN I. C. M. 

The Orphan's Song : for an Asylum** 

1. THOU Father of the fatherless, 

To thee our hearts belong, 
And to thy praise our lips address 
The thankful orphan's song. 

2. Our fathers and our mothers died, 

And not a home had we j 
And then we all the day-long cried, 
But did not cry to thee. 

3. We knew not then, that God would prove 

Our helper in distress : 

* First sung in the Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia, 
X 



242 APPENDIX. 

Nor had we learned to ask thy love, 
God of the fatherless. 

4. But thy kind hand has rais'd up here 

A mother for us all, 
Who bids us the Almighty fear, 
And Him our Father call. 

5. She tells us God inclin'd the good 

To take us from the street, 
And give us here our daily foad, 
And here, instruction sweet. 

6. Then God, our Father, we will bless, 

To whom all thanks belong j 
The Father of the fatherless 
Shall be the orphan's song. 



WWW WW 



HYMN II. C. M. 

Man a Prisoner to Justice. 

1. WHEN the " first father" of our race 

Rebell'd against the law, 
God sat in judgment on the case, 
To fill the world with awe. 

2. The guilt was found, and justice claim'd 

Due sentence on the foe ; 



HYMNS FOR SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 243 

When holy indignation fram'd 
The curse of endless woe. 

3. " Lie under all the weight of sin," 

Jehovah justly said, 
" And feel the keenest pangs within, 
" Till all thy debt be paid. 

4. " Sinners be all to gaol consign'd, 

" To be afflicted there, 
" Till each, by faith, a Ransom find, 
" Whom Justice shall not spare." 

5. Sweet Mercy, from the bending skies, 

Came in the form of man, 

And gently to our weeping eyes 

Disclosed the Gospel plan, 

6. Jesus, the Ransom, came to die 

A victim in our stead, 
That we might from confinement fly, 
To our exalted Head. 

T. " Believe," he said, "and thou shalt live., 
" Through my abounding grace ; 
" Believe, and take what God will give — 
" Beside his throne a place." 



244 APPENDIX. 

HYMN III. C. M. 

The Prisoner's Prayer.* 

1. JESUS, on whom the Spirit came 

Like a descending dove, 
Thou art a purifying flame, 
Thou art the God of love. 

2. Anointed Son of David, preach 

Good tidings to the meek, 
And broken-hearted sinners teach 
The oil of joy to seek. 

3. Bid mourning captives all be free 

From ev'ry galling chain ; 

And give each pris'ner liberty 

From Sin's accursed reign. 

4. Th' accepted time, the day of grace, 

Let mercy long proclaim, 
And warning vengeance clearly trace 
The path to endless shame. 

5. To those who mourn in heaviness, 

For ashes, beauty bring ; 
That cloth'd in Christ's own righteousness, 
Each saved soul may sing: 



* 



This, and the preceding hymn, were first sung in the 
State Prison of Pennsylvania. 



HYMNS FOR SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 245 

6. " Pris'ners of hope, lo ! Zion's King 
" From sin has made us free ; 
" Then let the heavenly arches ring 
" With Christian Liberty*" 

7m How chang'd will be the convicts' state. 
Who from Death's dungeon rise I 
The brightest crowns of glory wait 
Their ascent from the skies. 

IVWVWX/V* 

HYMN IV. L. M. 

Bethel: or^ a Small Religious Society* 

1. WITH rev'rence and with Godly fear, 
In Bethel, Lord, we now appear, 
Where weary souls, with guilt opprest, 
Have found the God of Jacob's rest. 

2. Some monument our hands would rear, 
For surely Jacob's God is here ; 

Our praise shall signalize this place, 
In which our God reveals his grace. 

3. To us, who want the seraph's wing, 
His angels on faith's ladder bring 
Sweet messages ; and then ascend 
With our best anthems to our Friend. 

4. While Jesus sits enthron'd in light, 
His children feel the shades of night; 

X2 



246 APPENDIX* 

But by communion they shall rise 
To mansions garnish'd in the skies* 

5, If, Jesus, thou will guide our feet, 
Will give us heavenly food to eat, 
And shield us with th* Almighty's wing, 
The Lord shall be our God and King. 

6. Him will we serve: be witness now, 
All heaven, to this our solemn vow ; 
From other lords we will be free, 
And, Saviour, worship only thee. 



(WXiX/WW* 



HYMN V. C. M. 

Sung at opening a Place of Worship, 

* Of Zion it shall be said, This and that man was born in 
her ; and the Highest himself shall establish her.* 5 
Ps. 87. 5. 

1. THOU renovating Spirit, deign 

To dwell within this place ; 
And here o'er stubborn sinners reign 
By sweet, subduing grace. 

2. O say, of many, lifeless, here, 

" They shall begin to live 
" In knowledge, faith, and love, and fear, 
" To life which Christ shall give." 



N 



HYMNS FOR SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 24T 

3. In vain was built this house, in vain 

We sing, and preach, and pray, 
Unless thou come with all thy train 
To bless the holy day. 

4. Come, at the time of thy delight, 

To men by nature blind ; 
Come, and emancipate from night 
The long-lost human mind. 

5. Come, Holy Spirit, in thy love, 

To cherish life begun ; 
And let the new-born from above 
Their heav'nly circuit run. 

6. Let all behold the Saviour's face, 

And in his likeness shine ; 
Let each the Son of God embrace, 
And shout " salvation's mine!" 



THE END, 






I 



I 



INDEX. 





Page. 


ALMSHOUSE, the air of 


63, 94 


Audience, very full 


39 


Anecdote of a Quaker 


72 


Animating" prospects 


85 


Anecdote of Sam and his father, Ichabod, Sec- 


134 


Admonition, a solemn 


136 


Affliction and thankfulness 


147 


Anecdote of a deacon 


154 


Alarming of the sick 


155 


Anecdote of a Virginian 


158 


Anecdote of the boy and his goat 


m 


Appendix 


18? 


Actress, some account of 


193 


Birth -day of the author 


184 


Baptism, infant 


141 


Bank, transaction at a 


17, 19, 20 


Blind boy, W— R— , 30, 43, 


69, 109, 144 


Blind, read 


60 


Blind, conversation of several of the 


144 


Believer disconsolate 


88, 159, 162 


Blind woman, an old hearer 


113 


Burlington, my friend of 


16, 145 


Bleecker, Mr. L. 


32 


Brodhead, the Rev. Dr. 


181 


Caroline, continuation of her history 


217 


Captain P — 


168 

t act 



250 INDEX. 





Fage. 


Captain, an old American 


77, 80 


Casuistry, a case of 


55 


Catholic, a genuine one 18, 39, 48, 50, 66, 70 


Catholic church 


46, 47, 137 


Church, Scotch, Dutch, &c» 


69 


Clergyman, a poor 


78, 86 


Cold, intense, hymn on the 


36 


Confidence, fallacious 


46 


Consumption 


29, 114 


Count, death of a 


77 


Connecticut, State of, apostrophe to 


120 


Contrast, the 


156 


Dying hearers 


169 


Death of two athletic men 


17 


Drunkard, an old woman a 


24, 28 


Debt paid 


27 


Drunken man 


33, 34 


Divorce, the law of 


58 


, sufficient cause for 


59 


Dutch woman, a very aged 


65,67 


Drunkenness, the cause of suicide 


66 


Death, an awful 


71,74 


Donally, a blind woman 


81, 82, 89, 146 


Death, a glorious 


94 


Diseased flock 


97, 98 


Daughters of the Lord Almighty 


112 


Drunkenness, an instance of occasional 


115 


Deist, the God of 


123 


Degrees in grace 


132 


Deaf man and his slate 


156 


Drivers, careless 


160 


Darkness of nature 


167 


Education, the force of 


69 


Enemies, forgiveness of 


26 


Encouragement, ministerial 


7» 



INDEX. 251 







Page. 


Experience, the result of 




179 


Epitaph 




184 


Father, a bad 




95 


Fatalism 




73 


Faith and works 




34 


Friendship of the poor 




54 


Fever, the spotted 




$5, 147, 148, 153, 182 


Female, a reformed 




124 


George, blind singer 




60, 144 


German, a pious 




7% 83, 85, 86 


Gospel, the purifying efficacy 


of 


130 


Government, domestic 




133 


Hope, deferred 




14 


Hope in disappointment 




17 


Hatred of brethren 




18 


History of W — F — , a blind man 


23, 28, 30, 35, 40, 45, 






49, 67, 87 


Heart, sinner's good 




44, 61, 143 






100 
106 


, a mother's 




Half an eye 




168 


History of S. A. E. 




28, 40, 117 


Mr. C— r 




29, 37 


Miss H— 




52 


_ Mrs. G— H— 


87, 


99, 146, 151, 159, 161, 162 


Mrs. X. Y. 




94, 96, 99, 111, 117, 131 


Mi«- 9 S T 




111, 118, 121, 131 


. Mrs. M'Z— 




110, 116 


Hymns, for several occasions 




241 


Inducement to resume the pen 


13 


Isaac and Rebecca, marriage 


of 


57 


Insensibility to danger 




176 


Irish mother, sick 




183 



252 INDEX, 





Page. 


Journal, the means of awakening- 


174 


Justice and grace 


38 


Letter to the old Universalist 


172 


Letter from the good old dog 


171 


Liberality of the poor 


166 


Letter from a poor widow 


164 


Levity of sailors 


157 


Ladies, some kind 


102 


Lawyer, a learned 


90 


Lines of a young woman 


84 


Letter of A — E — , to his wife 


148 


Lothian, Rev. Robert, death of 


78 


Longing for pardon 


99 


Love of Christ, the astonishing 


37 


Letter from Senex 


16 


Simuel Miller D D 


19 

20 


E. Boudinot, Esq. 


Love, an evidence of regeneration, 


103, 104, 105 


Letter from a widow indeed 


125 




140 

25 


Labour in vain 




180 

57 


Marriage defined 


Maintenance desirable 


15 


M — B — of the former Journal 


48, 62, 147, 159 


Murder and divorce 


56 


Methodist Church, a girl at 


62 


Minister of the Gospel 


77,78 


Murderers, genteel 


95, 96 


Mother, an afflicted 


97 


Mother, a pious, Mrs. V. 


103, 147 


Mediator necessary 


121 


Mercury, without 


135 


Mother, an unfortunate 


142 


Memory of the blind 


144 






INDEX. 253 

Page. 

Mason, Mr. 229 

Magdalen Asylum 101, 338 

M'Leod, Rev. Dr. 88, 143 

Matron, the assistant 181 

Man a prisoner 242 

Ned Craig 90, 91 

Nervous affections, the girl of 63 

Nothing new 81 

Nature*s darkness 167 

New-Jerusalem of the Shakers 225 

Old man, an obdurate 51, 71, 72 

Orthodox sinner, 68 

Ordinances, trust in 80 

Orphan's song 241 

Parents, cruel to their daughter 22 

Profaneness reproved 78 

Parents, pious, prayers of 80 

Perfection, sought for salvation 25 

Penitent, the grateful 62 

Prisoner's letter to a wife 148 

Praying society, long continued 29 

• hymn for a 24 

Prayer answered 128 

Prayers and promises 83 

Pauper's hymn 30 

world 40 

Professor, a false 49, 62 

Preparation for death 50 

Purgatory 76 

Prisoners, English 161 

Prisoner's prayer 244 

Quaker, an anecdote of a ;3 




2,54 





Page. 


Romeyn, Rev. Dr. 


126, 179 


Ripening- for the harvest 


146 


Reproof of some sailors 


78 


Resignation 


87 


Religion relinquished in despair 


215 


Respondent, a crazy 


98 


Reply to a widow's letter 


165 


Report of the Trustees 


189 


Romaine, Rev. William 


124 


Reformation rare 


237 


Sarah How 


227— 231 


Sanctifieation requisite 


122 


Society formed to support the Gospel 


14 


Stanford, Rev. John's labours 


15 


Senex, letter from 


16 


Suspicion of swindling 


19 


Seduction, a case of 


21 


Stansbury, Rev. A. 


23 


Sickness and death 


28 


Salvation, Christ the beginning of 


213 


Stolen country girl 


41 


Sinner, a peevish 


42, 111, 118 


Self-righteousness 


45 


Sinner, the enraged- 


47 


Soldier's female friend 


52,53 


Sin, the wages of 


66 


Seduction, the source of prostitution- 


82 


Sleeper, the, aroused 


117 


Scotck-Irish woman, 


32, 67 t 143 


Satan and Ned Craig vanquished 


91 


Stanford, Rev. J. a Latin address to 


93 


Spring's Essays 


123 


Sailor, the blind 


156, 175 


Sailors of the Hornet and Peacock 


i57 


Sinner, a little 


loa 



INDEX. 255 





Page. 


T waits, the sufferings of 


206, 208, 209, 210 


Theatre, dangerous 


23 


Tall country -girl 


43, 101, 138, 151 


Tribute, a grateful 


84 


Truth precious 


145 


Theatre, religion of 


199, 208 


Universalist, the old 51, 71, 72, 73, 86, 171, 178 


Unchaste women 


138 


Vice fashionable 


64 


Visions, how to estimate them now 


89 


Visits to the sick 


110 




150, 177 






Variety of hearers 


151 


Visitors of a young man 


153 


Valedictory discourses 


185 


Wetmore, Noah and wife 


229 


Watchers, religious 


109 


Wake, description of a 


75 


Widow's son, marriage of 


54, 55 t 56 


Widows, three 


107, 108 


Widow indeed 


125 


W — d, Caroline's letter from 


221 


Word in season 


129 


Woman of colour 


170 


Worship, opening a place of 


246 


Yellow man 


24, 25, 26, 32 


Youth, a sick 


31 



Youthful lusts 






jf 



I 






^■fce"£;Jb 



n 






%2s 






Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2005 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 
(724)779-2111 



